Tristan  ft?  Isolde 


Tristan  &  Isolde 

&  Cragefc  |> 

Louis  K.  ANSPACHER 


New  York:  Brentano's 
MCMIV 


Copyright,  1904,  by  Louis  K.  Anspacher 
All  rights  reserved 


To  My  Mother  and  To  Altera 


Foreword 

author  wishes  to  make 
A  acknowledgment  of  his  grati 
tude  to  Mr.  George  Edward  Wood- 
berry,  whose  patient  and  stimulating 
criticism  has  been  a  source  of  in 
spiration  to  him  in  his  work. 

Louis  KAUFMAN  ANSPACHER. 
New  York,  1904 


Poesy 


THE  poet's  soul  is  an  JEolian  lyre, 
On  which  far  wandering  airs  can  softly  stray, 
Waking  the  tones  that  slumber  to  a  lay 
That  stirs  the  embrous  heart  to  rapturous  fire. 
The  west  wind,  rising  from  the  sunset  pyre 
Where  flame  the  dolours  of  the  dying  day, 
Sweeps  threnodies  that  weep,  yet  fondly  say 
The  dawn  will  burst  again  in  carol  choir, 
That  augurs  day  will  come.     So,  Poesy, 
To  thee  I  turn  when  mourns  my  evening  wind; 
Thou  art  my  solace,  pledge  and  prophecy. 
I  turn  to  thee  distressed  and  unresigned, 
In  sunset  anguish  for  the  joys  that  flee; 
Thou  art  the  glamour  that  is  left  behind. 


Dramatis  Personse 

MARK,  King  of  Cornwall. 

TRISTAN  OF  LYONESSE,  Nephew  of  King  Mark,  and 
Knight  of  the  Table  Round. 


RUAL,  Tristan's  retainer. 


CATHBAD    >  Yeomen  and  hunters. 
GERVAINE  ) 

ARTHUR,  a  youth  of  the  Court. 

JEAN. 

SERVANT. 

ISOLDE,  daughter  of  Gormun,  King  of  Ireland,  and 
wife  of  Mark,  King  of  Cornwall. 

BRANG^ENA,  a  lady  of  the  Irish  Court,  companion  of 
Isolde. 

ISABEL,  Lady  in  waiting  to  Isolde. 
SERVANTS,  ATTENDANTS,  HUNTERS,  ETC. 


TIME:  Late  summer,  7th  Century,  A.  D 

PLACE:  King  Mark's  Castle  Tintagel  in  Cornwall,  and 
later  Lionel's  castle  on  the  coast. 


Act  I 


A  I  ALL  in  Castle  Tintagel.      In  the  rear  centre  is 
a  large,  heavy  round-arch  portal,  on  each  side 
of    which    are   heavy    mullioned    windows,  all 
opening  on  a  terrace.     To  the  right  can  be  seen   the 
border  of  a  heavy  forest,  dark  with  massive  trees  and 
the  falling  gloom  of  twilight.     To  the  left,  through  the 
portal,  the  rear  wing  of  the  castle,  with  its  high  tower 
and  ivy-covered  sides,  is  visible. 

In  the  interior  of  the  hall,  high  above  the  portal,  near 
the  arched  and  groined  ceiling,  there  are  three  small 
round-arch  windows,  set  with  purple-stained  glass. 
There  are  entrances  right  and  left  to  the  hall.  Between 
the  right  door  and  the  front  of  the  stage,  is  a  generous 
hearth-place,  covered  with  a  high  overhanging  hood. 
Against  the  left  wall  is  a  low  oaken  settle.  Bows, 
arrows,  spears  and  nets  are  lying  about. 


Act  I 

Late  Afternoon 

The  curtain  discovers  hunters,  Gervaine,  Cathbad,  ^Engus,  Jean, 
and  others,  arranging  spears,  bows  and  trappings,  preparatory  to  the 
chase. 

CATHBAD 

The  afternoon  grows  late. 

^ENGTJS 

'Tis  evening  soon: 

Our  markmanship  will  have  its  trial  now. 
This  spear  has  kissed  the  blood  of  many  a  boar; 
I  sharpened  it  anew. 

CATHBAD 

'Tis  rusty  with  use; 
Mine  has  the  better  head. 

VENOUS 

Rusty  but  trusty, 

And  tried  in  use.     I'd  rather  have  the  shaft 
Seasoned  with  service,  the  bow  that  has  been  bent. 

All  the  hunters  match  spears  and  trappings. 
Enter  Arthur,  running  through  the  gate 
from  the  right. 

ARTHUR 

Gervaine>  Cathbad,  saw  ye  my  hound  pass  here  ? 
He  broke  the  leash  on  entering  the  gate. 

GERVAINE 

He  passed  within;  we  thought  he  followed  you. 

Exit  Arthur  across  stage  to  the  left. 


14  Tristan  $2?  Isolde  Act  I 

CATHEAD 

A  fine  lad  that. 

J3NGUS 

His  father  was  a  hunter; 
He  runs  as  if  he  had  been  born  to  chase. 

CATHEAD 

Too  slender  in  the  thigh. 

GERVAINE 

Where's  the  king's  bow? 
JEAN 
Here,  fresh  suppled,  oiled  and  strung. 

GERVAINE 

Takes  the  bow. 
It  has  grown  stubborn  with  its  long  disuse. 

Bends  it. 
Are  all  the  spears  new  polished  for  the  chase  ? 

JEAN 
They  are. 

More  hunters  enter  and  converse  to  the 
rear  of  stage.  Enter  Arthur  from  the  left, 
dragged  in  by  the  hound. 

ARTHUR 

I  found  him  at  the  warder's  post;  he  stood 
Awaiting  bits;  but  then  I  brought  him  here. 
A  hungry  hound  is  keener  on  the  scent: 
And  so  I  dragged  him  off. 

^ENGUS 

You  dragged  him  off! 
It  seems  to  me  you  follow  where  he  leads. 

Gervaine,  going  to  the  gate  to  the  right. 
GERVAINE 

The  day  is  fainting  into  evening's  arms, 


Act  I  Tristan  fi§f  Isolde  15 

And  dies  as  mildly  as  the  aged  sleep. 

The  night  will  be  too  beautiful  to  hunt, 

Besides  a  little  bright  and  clear  for  us; 

For  million  stars  will  shudder  pityingly. 

We  that  mean  death  should  choose  a  darker  night. 

CATHEAD 

The  moon  herself  has  strung  her  silver  bow, 

And  means  to  hunt  as  well  as  we.     So  come, 

Be  not  so  tedious;  Diana  once 

Did  hunt  the  stag  through  fabled  Grecian  nights: 

Now  she  entices  hearts  by  her  chaste  light, 

And  slays  them  two  by  two.     Her  shaft  is  keen, 

And  kills  by  very  beauty. 


Many  a  maid 

Hath  had  her  honour  slain  by  such  a  shaft. 
What  would  our  lovers  do  without  the  moon, 
The  stars  and  twilight,  —  yea  and  everything 
That  makes  the  day  wink  to  avoid  the  sight  ? 

CATHBAD 

I  would  there  were  a  truce  to  lovers'  trysts, 
Just  for  this  evening;  let  it  then  be  dark. 
Those  that  are  far  in  suits  will  bless  the  dark; 
Those  that  begin  will  chafe  expectantly, 
And  grow  united  close  in  separation; 
Because  they  suffer  absence  each  from  each. 

GERVAINE 

How  well  he  knows  the  trail! 

CATHEAD 

A  wounded  hart 

Is  easily  tracked.     I  never  yet  have  said: 
16  The  day  is  fainting  into  evening's  arms," 
"The  night  will  be  too  beautiful  to  hunt." 


16  Tristan  Sf  Isolde  Act  I 

Thou'rt  grown  too  soft,  and  I  can  guess  the  cause. 
We  know,  eh,  fellows  all,  we  know.     I'll  wager 
My  best  knife  that  even  now  he  carries 
Some  treasured  tress  bound  closely  to  his  breast. 
Ah,  you  remember,  Jean,  we  saw  him  slink 
About  the  lodge  at  twilight  yesterday, 
Plucking  the  flowers  for — which  is  it  now  ? 
And  sighing  at  the  moon  as  just  before. 

GERVAINE 

Hush  thy  babbling  prattle,  fool,  leave  off! 
Thou  hast  affection  for  thy  horse  and  dog; 
And  this  redeems  thy  callous  pig-skin  heart. 
And  yet  if  there  should  come  some  burning  arrow, 
Able  to  pierce  thy  hide,  thou'dst  heat  thy  breath 
With  vows  of  love,  like  a  house  a-fire. 

^ENGUS 

The  moon  will  shine  in  spite  of  all  your  words; 

And  guide  the  beast  away  from  the  outspread  nets, 

Which  darkness  might  have  hid.     If  ye  can  cloud 

The  sky  as  darkly  as  your  brows  with  words, 

Go  on:  if  not,  break  off.     The  clash  of  breath 

Makes  melee  in  my  ears.     I  would  ye  had 

A  decent  cause  for  quarrel.     'Twould  be  sport 

To  see  ye  both,  that  both  so  much  denied, 

Be  swords  apoint  in  jealousy.     If  blood 

Will  willingly  be  spilt  for  woman's  love, 

Then  wrestle  for  a  man's,  to  end  the  spite; 

And  I  myself  shall  umpire  in  the  bout. 

He  that  can  throw  the  other  most  of  five, 

I'll  then  proclaim  the  better  man  of  arms, 

Or  love,  or  whate'er  title  ye  may  wish. 

GERVAINE 

Agreed  ;  I'll  throw  him. 


Act  I  Tristan  ^f  Isolde  17 

CATHBAD 

I'm  willing  to  be  thrown, 
If  thou  art  man  enough  to  lay  me  flat. 

GERVAINE 

Aside. 

Now,  Isabel,  it  is  for  thee  I  fight; 

So  thoughts  of  thee  be  near  to  gird  my  strength. 

Abstractedly  takes  a  miniature  from  his 
breast  and  kisses  it. 

CATHBAD 

Where  got  you  that,  sir?     Did  you  steal  from  me? 

He  opens  his  own  bosom,  and  reveals  an 
identical  miniature.  The  hunters  laugh  up 
roariously;  but  Gervaine  and  Cathbad  are  in 
great  mortification  and  confusion. 

^ENGUS 

The  pot  has  called  the  kettle  black  ere  this. 

GERVAINE 

Aside.    Going  to  the  left  of  stage. 

I  would  not  injure  him;  he'd  stay  at  home 
With  Isabel  to  nurse  him,  while  I  hunted; 
And  yet  I  would  not  have  him  win  of  me 
For  the  honour  of  my  love. 

CATHBAD 

Aside.    Going  to  the  right  of  stage. 
I  would  not  injure  him;  her  pity  then 
Would  make  up  more  than  admiration  lost; 
And,  winning,  I  should  lose.     What  shall  I  do  ? 
I  would  not  fail,  yet  would  not  beat  him  thus. 

^BNGUS 

So  ho!  ye  both  do  tread  each  other's  heels. 
'Twill  be  a  jolly  match,  and  Isabel — 


18  Tristan  @f  Isolde  Act  I 


Is  that  her  name?  —  the  queen  of  tournament, 
Will  be  the  prize.     I  had  not  thought  that  this 
Had  made  ye  nettles  for  a  mutual  rose. 
I'll  have  her  by  my  side  to  watch  the  sport. 
Who's  Isabel? 

JEAN 

She  is  Isolde's  maid. 

^ENGUS 

So,  combatants,  ye're  ready  now,  I  trust. 

GERVAINE 

It  is  too  late,  the  hunt  starts  even  now; 

And  'twould  fatigue  us;  let  us  meet  to-morrow. 

JEAN 

A  side,  to  JEngus. 
It  is  too  late  to-day. 

VENOUS 
Aside,  to  Jean. 

I  know  it  is; 
But  leave  me  to  my  sport. 

Aloud. 

The  time  hangs  heavily  before  we  start; 
And  if  ye  do  not  now,  upon  the  word, 
Fall  to;  I  shall  proclaim  ye  both  for  cowards, 
Take  Isabel  unto  myself,  and  leave 
Ye  both  to  gape. 

Gervaine  and  Cathbad  fall  to. 
Enter  Lionel. 

LIONEL 

Peace,  fellows,  break  ye  off  ! 

They  cease. 

Your  noise  grows  riotous  within  these  halls. 
'Tis  unbecoming;  meet  beyond  the  lodge. 


Act  I  Tristan  &  Isolde  19 

And  see,  here  comes  Lord  Melot,  ready  for  the  chase: 
He's  lingering  on  the  terrace's  approach. 

Aside. 

He  always  comes  so  pat  upon  the  time, 
As  if  he  had  some  calendar  of  prophecy. 

^ENGUS 

I  like  him  not;  too  much  the  hypocrite, 

That  snake-like  sloughs,  each  day,  another  face, 

And  takes  a  new  one  for  each  new  event. 

LIONEL 

He  seems  a  choking  weed  about  the  king, 

And  yet  his  services  are  large.     Men  can, 

With  selfishness  at  heart,  oft  do  a  deed 

That  will  redound  in  benefits  to  all; 

But  yet  be  selfish  when  the  end's  disclosed. 

He  seems  most  loyal  to  the  noble  king, 

And  wields,  e'en  now,  the  strong  right  arm  of  power. 

Were  heart  and  service  both  conjoined  in  him, 

He  would  be  past  reproach. 

Enter  Melot. 

MELOT 

Good  even,  all. 
Is  everything  prepared?     We  start  at  night. 

GERVAINE 

It  is,  Sir  Melot;  readiness  awaits 
The  king's  command. 

LIONEL 

Perchance  some  exercise 
Will  lift  the  cloud  of  sadness  from  his  face, 
And  let  it  beam  as  bright  as  it  was  wont. 


20  Tristan  &P  Isolde  Act  I 

MELOT 

Why?     Is  the  king  depressed?     I  saw  it  not; 
And  I  have  been  a  neighbour  to  his  heart 
These  many  months. 

JENGUS 
Aside. 

No  doubt,  that  is  the  cause. 

GERVAINE 

I  know  no  reason,  sir,  but  yet  it  seems 
Some  melancholy  broods  upon  his  brow. 
I  that  have  known  him  since  I  was  a  boy, 
Have  never  seen  his  visage  so  unhappy. 

MELOT 

The  king  is  past  his  youth;  he  is  not  sad. 
Pray,  would  you  have  the  middle-aged  man 
As  blithe  and  supple  as  the  younker  there, 
Who  would  outspeed  his  hound  ? 

LIONEL 

It  seemed  he  drooped 
When  Tristan  went  away  to  Bretigny. 
He  lives  as  if  he  were  but  half  himself 
Since  Tristan  left;  and  he  has  had  no  news; 
No  rumour  of  Sir  Tristan's  knightly  deeds 
Has  come  to  rouse  his  pride. 

MELOT 

Think  you  'tis  Tristan  that  the  king  now  mourns 
As  if  in  death  ? 

LIONEL 
I  do. 

GERVAINE 

So  do  we  all. 


Act  I  Tristan  ^f  Isolde 

ARTHUR 

With  the  hound. 

Sir  Lionel,  I've  heard  of  Tristan's  name; 
My  mother  used  it  as  a  prayer  for  me, 
That  I  should  grow  into  a  man,  and  be 
Most  like  him. 

LIONEL 

'Twould  be  well,  my  lad,  for  thee 
To  imitate  such  knighthood,  if  thou  couldst. 
He  was  a  pattern  knight,  so  noble,  gentle, 
And  withal  so  strong.     I  can  remember, 
Some  three  years  back,  about  this  time  of  day, 
When  flowers  yield  most  fragrance  ere  they  close, 
Upon  the  road  that  leads  within  the  wood, 
He  slew  grim  Morolt. 

ARTHUR 
Who  was  Morolt,  sir? 

LIONEL 

Isolde's  uncle,  and  brother  to  the  king, 
The  warlike  Gormun,  king  of  Ireland. 

ARTHUR 
Why  slew  he  him? 

LIONEL 

He  came  for  tribute,  lad. 

This  land  of  ours  had  groaned  beneath  the  tax 
Of  yearly  stipend  unto  Ireland; 
And  Morolt,  haughty  in  his  dominance, 
Came  with  his  insolent  demand  again. 
Then  Tristan  said  to  Mark:  "My  liege,  let  me, 
Who  am  of  Cornwall  now,  and  of  thy  blood, 
Relieve  this  land  of  bondage  and  the  tax." 
Not  waiting  for  refusal  then  he  rode 
Upon  the  giant  Morolt  and  his  troop. 


22  Tristan  dP  Isolde  Act  I 

We  heard  his  thunderous  cry:  "Hear  ye,"  he  said, 

"We  shall  no  longer  pay  ye  fealty,  sir, 

Nor  any  tribute."     Dark  the  giant  frowned 

Upon  the  youth,  and  then  a  disdainful  smile 

Curled  up  his  beard,  and  Tristan  set  his  spear 

And  cried:  "I  am  the  tribute,  sir.     If  thou 

Be  bold  enough  to  take  me,  here  I  am 

To  meet  thy  capture. "     And  they  met  in  fight. 

They  crashed  like  frowning  clouds  in  a  thunder  shock; 

And  splintering  lightnings  shivered  on  their  spears. 

But  Tristan  hurled  big  Morolt  o'er  his  croup; 

Then  leaped  he  to  the  ground,  as  light  as  falls 

The  windless  leaf  of  autumn  to  its  grave. 

Morolt  arose,  with  curses  on  his  lips, 

Drawing  his  sword,  he  lashed  at  Tristan's  helm; 

And  Tristan  hewed  the  hulky  giant  down 

Upon  the  second  blow.     The  Irish  left, 

And  since  that  time  have  never  come  again; 

For  we  are  now  in  peace  and  wedlock  joined. 

But  Tristan  found  he  had  been  wounded  deep 

In  the  encounter,  with  a  poisoned  sword. 

He  drooped  since  then,  although,  'twas  said,  Isolde 

Cured  him  of  the  wound. 

ARTHUR 

Was't  honourable 
For  one  to  fight  with  poison  on  his  sword  ? 

LIONEL 

No,  my  lad;  that  was  the  reason  why 
Isolde  undertook  to  cure  the  wound; 
E'en  though  'twas  done  upon  her  enemy. 
But,  since  that  time,  Sir  Tristan  always  failed, 
As  if  he  had  been  spelled  by  magic  art. 
He  came  to  Cornwall,  whole  in  body,  but, 
I  fear,  not  whole  in  spirit.     He  would  once 


Act  I  Tristan  ^f  Isolde  23 


Outride  the  boldest  in  the  hunt  or  lists; 
But,  since  that  time,  he  never  rode  again. 

ARTHUR 
Where  is  he  now? 

LIONEL 

Alas,  we  do  not  know; 
Some  say  in  Bretigny,  or  else  in  France; 
But  nothing  certain. 

GERVAINE 

Look,  men,  the  shadows'  ears  are  pointed  thin; 

They  slant  now  timorous  from  their  lairs  to  peep 

And  hear  if  day  be  gone.     Come,  fellows,  hasten 

To  see  the  horses  and  the  hounds,  if  they 

Be  ready  for  the  chase.     Come,  all; 

We'll  have  our  bout  to-morrow,  before  noon. 

Exeunt  all  but  Melot. 
MELOT 

So  Tristan  'tis,  as  these  would  have  me  think, 

Has  caused  the  whole  of  this  abstraction. 

I  dare  believe  the  root  lies  deeper  yet 

Of  that  dark  gloom  that  grows  to  shade  his  face. 

'Tis  not  dug  up  with  guessing:  "Tristan's  gone. 

Tristan,  while  here,  outstarred  me;  now,  away, 

He  seems  to  have  grown  brighter,  as  a  comet, 

Quenched  in  the  dark,  still  beams  in  memory. 

He  sits  so  surely  in  the  king's  regard, 

Since  he  has  gone,  that  mention  of  his  name, 

Without  his  praise,  or  hope  of  soon  return, 

Draws  from  the  king  a  mild  look  of  reproach, 

That  turns  all  envy  to  confusion. 

He  shines,  anointed  in  the  king's  esteem, 

And  my  sharp  calumnies  glide  off  from  him, 

Like  drops  from  off  a  swan.     Besides,  the  king, 


24  Tristan  &  Isolde  Act  I 

Weak  from  very  magnanimity, 

Will  not  believe;  and  looks  upon  my  hints 

With  mute  command  of  silence  in  his  pain. 

No  flash  of  anger,  as  at  first: — ah,  true! 

If  Mark  felt  no  forebodings  of  the  truth; 

Nor  that  my  hints  came  but  halfway  to  meet 

With  his  suspicions  coming  the  other  half, 

He  would  continue  still  in  his  rebuke. 

He  answers  not;  this  argues  half  belief. 

They  both  are  noble,  Tristan  and  the  king; 

My  guilt  ought  hush  me.     Cease,  and  man  thyself. 

Ye  scruples  are  the  infants  of  my  fear, 

Which  I  will  strangle  at  your  very  birth. 

I'll  think  no  more  of  it.     To  have  him  win, 

Where  I  have  failed;  to  plant  his  growing  tree 

Upon  the  soil,  made  rich  with  my  defeat! 

No,  no.     Why  stays  he  not  in  Bretigny? 

What  does  he  here,  stepped  in  as  Mark's  successor, 

A  mushroom  that  has  sprung  up  over  night? 

And  Tristan  is  no  nobler  than  myself; 

Yet  still  he  grows  in  honour.     He  has  done 

More  deftly  what  I  'tempted  oft  to  do; 

I  rest  now,  as  it  is  in  Mark's  disfavour; 

And  fall  to  lower  ebb  in  his  regard. 

I  must  strike  upward  now,  or  fail  in  all. 

Enter  Rual,  stealthily,  through  further  door 
at  the  right.  He  does  not  see  Melot;  but 
Melot,  standing  in  the  shadow  of  the  gate, 
sees  him. 

MELOT 

'Tis  Rual  by  his  gait;  but  why  so  close? 
I'll  hide  me  here  to  listen  what  is  toward. 
I  have  a  premonition  of  some  news, 
To  feed  the  king's  suspicion  and  my  cause. 


Act  I  Tristan  &  Isolde  25 

Rual  knocks  gently  for  the  servant,   but 
starts  back  at  his  own  noise. 

RUAL 

Did  ever  knocker  make  such  noise  as  this  ? 
'Twould  rouse  the  dead.     No  answer, — then  again. 

Knocks,   but   door   opens.     Rual,  startled, 
quickly  recovers  as  servant  appears. 

RUAL 

Yes,  yes,  'tis  Rual;  gape  not,  but  be  quick; 

For  I  am  still  unseen,  and  would  be  off 

Before  an  eye  can  find  me.     Where's  Brangsena? 

SERVANT 

She  was  with  the  queen,  when  I  last  saw  her.  They 
cannot  have  ventured  far  from  here,  for  the  queen  has 
not  been  well  of  late,  nor  joyous;  and,  if  one  could 
trust  what  here  is  whispered  by  the  gossiping  maids 
about  her  majesty, — 

RUAL 
Enough ! 

See  that  thou  find  Brangaena.     Swallow  thy  words; 
Go  thou  to  seek  her,  I  would  speak  with  her, 
With  no  one  near;  so  haste.     Here  is  a  purse 
To  gag  thy  tongue  withal. 

Puts  purse  into  servant's  mouth. 

SERVANT 

I  shall  call  her  hither;  but,  since  purchase  breeds 
advice,  it  were  safelier  to  come  within;  for  all  prepare 
here  for  a  hunt,  and  meet  together,  within  the  hour  to 
start.  I  shall  find  the  lady,  and  bring  her  to  you. 
Come  within. 

RUAL 

I  fear  a  woman's  room  more  than  a  tent, 
Where  warriors  slumber  on  their  hostile  arms. 
Exit  within. 


26  Tristan  &f  Isolde  Act  I 

MELOT 

Surmise  will  prophesy  that  Tristan  comes! 

I'll  venture  all  my  favour  with  the  king 

Upon  this  stake,  and  win  beyond  my  hopes; 

Or  else  lose  all.     The  king  has  not  looked  kindly 

Here  of  late  upon  my  services; 

And  this  will  win  or  lose,  for  now  I  stand 

Unsteadily.     And  Tristan  comes  again; 

Isolde  will  receive  him  once  again; 

I'll  to  the  king.     My  star  is  on  the  rise; 

My  plan  is  yet  in  ferment.     I'll  to  the  king. 

Melot  goes  toward  left,  as  king  enters  from 
the  right. 

KING  , 

Where  goest  thou,  Melot  ? 

MELOT 

Well  met,  my  liege;  the  men 
Are  all  prepared,  and  wait  for  night  to  fall 
And  your  command  to  ride  off  on  the  chase; 
For  everything  is  tip-toed  for  the  start. 

KING 

My  heart  is  not  forth  on  the  hunt  to-night; 
Some  brooding  heaviness  oppresses  me. 
The  evening  seems  too  beautiful  for  blood, 
Too  much  of  mocking  peace,  except  within. 
My  heart  is  knocking  secrets  in  my  breast, 
Which  I  cannot  interpret  to  my  sense. 
Some  unnamed  sadness,  yet  too  deep  for  words, 
Has  settled  with  the  evening  on  the  earth; 
And  darkens  all  my  thoughts  from  scrutiny: 
But  yet  I  feel  that  all  is  not  aright. 

MELOT 

My  liege,  'twill  do  thee  good  to  ride;  'twill  rouse 
Thine  all  too  flagging  spirits.     Thou  broodest  much. 


Act  I  Tristan  &  Isolde  27 

KING 

Thy  hints  would  have  me  brood  the  more;  if  that 
I  listened  with  belief  to  what  they  pointed. 

MELOT 

My  former  duties  to  your  majesty 
Will  plead  with  many  prayers  'gainst  thy  distrust. 

KING 

Be  not  so  dutiful:  so  then,  in  turn, 

'Twill  not  be  so  incumbent  on  my  thanks 

To  listen  to  thy  speech. 

MELOT 

Wouldst  thou  prefer 

That  I  should  fawn  on  thee,  like  some  I  know; 

And  seek  to  rise  in  thy  esteem  by  smiles, 

Hiding  the  malice,  as  a  gloss  upon  it  ? 

KING 

The  truth  is  sometimes  hard  to  hear,  I  know; 
But  does  it  follow  then,  my  lord,  from  this, 
That  everything  that  hurts,  perforce,  is  truth? 

MELOT 

Nay,  do  not  misbelieve  me,  liege,  for  'tis 
As  I  have  often  said — hark,  list  to  me; 
Now  I  shall  speak  more  openly  my  mind. 
And  wouldst  thou  have  surcease  of  all  thy  fears, 
Hear  and  attest  the  truth  of  what  I  say: 
Tristan  is  secret  come  to  Cornwall;  sends 
His  missives  to  thy  lady  queen  by  Rual, 
Whom  I  saw  now,  e'en  with  my  eyes,  slink  in. 

KING 

Thou  liest,  knave!     Were  Tristan  landed  here, 
He  would  have  sent  announcement  on  ahead, 
To  make  expectancy  a  pleasure,  ere  he  came. 


28  Tristan  £|f  Isolde  Act  I 

MELOT 

Hast  thou  heard  aught  of  Tristan  these  long  months; 

Why  should  he  wake  the  ear  of  Rumour  now  ? 

Ah,  true,  I  had  forgot;  perhaps  he  wed, 

As  Rumour  says,  Iseult  of  Bretigny. 

But  Rumour's  parents  never  lived  in  wedlock; 

And  she  is  a  bastard,  so  we'll  have  no  faith 

In  what  she  says  of  other  marriages: 

Her  parentage  is  illegitimate. 

Perhaps  he  fathered  that  report  himself 

To  better  win  thy  over-credulous  ear, 

To  indicate  his  love  was  elsewhere  found. 

But  be  not  gulled  by  that  transparent  lie; 

Thinking  his  love  is  elsewhere  but  in  Cornwall. 

KING 

Art  thou  so  pure  of  vicious  taint,  thyself, 
That  thus  art  bold  to  slander  all  I  love  ? 
Art  thou  so  proof  and  steadfast  in  thy  virtue, 
That  thou  so  surely  canst  condemn  another  ? 
Men  usually  condemn  that  vice  the  most 
Which  they  half  fear  themselves  are  subject  to; 
And  so  buttress  themselves  in  others'  praise, 
Which  always  hesitates  to  join  the  man 
With  what  he  says  is  most  detestable. 
Complete  thy  virtues  with  some  smack  of  mercy; 
They  savour  else  too  much  of  Stoic  pride; 
Lacking  th'  ennobling  touch  of  sympathy 
With  what  has  fallen  low. 

MELOT 

Aside. 
My  Rubicon  is  crossed;  I  dare  not  fail. 

A  loud. 
It  is  as  I  have  said,  my  liege. 


Act  I  Tristan  ftf  Isolde  29 

KING 

Melot, 

Thou  sayest  that  Rual  is  already  come, 
And  has  not  craved  our  presence  ? 

MELOT 

Yes,  my  liege; 

And  further  secretly  besought  Brangsena 
For  his  lord. 

KING 

Darest  thou  avouch  this,  man, 
And  put  against  it,  in  the  balance,  all 
Thy  hopes  of  life  and  honour  in  this  world, 
And  grace  hereafter  in  the  next? 

MELOT 

I  do. 

KING 

Call  Rual  and  the  servants  forth.     I'll  see. 
I  hope  that  I  can  prove  thee  false. 

MELOT 

My  liege, 

Pray  do  not  so;  yield  to  my  plan  to-night. 
And,  if  I  fail  to  prove  thee  what  I  say, 
If  thou  thyself  add  not  thy  seal  thereto, 
There  is  a  long  time  left  for  chastisement. 

KING 
Thou  venturest  well;  what  wouldst  thou  have  me  do? 

MELOT 

Go  forth  upon  the  hunt,  and  lead  them  on; 
And  then  let  us  return  before  the  rest, 
And  take  an  unexpected  game  within  our  nets. 
Tristan  will  come — 


30  Tristan  ^f  Isolde  Act  I 

KING 

Enough,  no  more,  I  pray. 
How  eager  for  my  sanctity  thou  art! 
I  would  not  bring  her  to  the  trial,  Melot. 
Were  it  not  that  thou  hast  ventured  all  upon 
The  sureness  of  thy  prophecy  to-night, 
I  could  not  listen.     I  never  heard  thee  speak 
Too  well  of  any  one;  but  marvel  yet 
Thy  bravery  and  daring  in  dispraise. 
Go,  get  thee  hence,  and  call  Brangaena  here; 
I  will  not  join  thee  on  the  hunt  before 
I've  looked  upon  my  queen.     I'll  see  thee  anon. 

MELOT 

Aside. 

I  too  have  prayed  Isolde  for  her  love; 
I  too  have  stormed  the  castle  of  her  heart 
With  flaming  firebrands  shot  at  her  breast. 
Isolde  dare  not  broach  my  suit  to  her; 
She  knows  I  know  of  Tristan;  and  her  honour 
Will  never  stand  the  shock  of  two  assaults. 
Proving  her  false  in  this,  'twill  force  discredit 
On  her  truthfulness  in  all. 

KING 

Why  stayest  thou  here? 
MELOT 
I  wait  upon  thy  further  pleasure,  liege. 

KING 

Thou  hast  served  me  with  great  pains;  now  call  Bran- 
gsena. 

Exit  Melot. 

My  fears  are  armour  for  his  calumnies. 
I  cannot  easily  believe  her  false; 


Act  I  Tristan  &  Isolde  31 

And,  Tristan,  no,  it  is  incredible;— 
All  knighthood  falls  in  thy  disloyalty. 

Enter  Brangana,  much  excited  at  first. 

KING 
Aside.     Turning  from  Brangcena. 

I  cannot  speak  to  her;  I  shame  myself 

In  thus  mistrusting, — faugh, — and  if  there  be  some 

guilt, 
She  too  would  shield  it. 

Openly  and  calmly. 

Go  thou,  Brangaena,  tell  thy  queen  Isolde 
I  rest  within  my  chamber,  ere  I  leave 
To  hunt  all  night.     I  did  not  sup  with  her, 
And  would  bespeak  her — go. 

BRANG^ENA 

I  shall,  my  liege. 

Aside. 

So  close  upon  the  footsteps  of  discovery, 
And  yet  so  ignorant  of  any  wrong. 

Exit. 

KING 

If  she  deny  herself  to  me  tonight, 

I  shall  misjudge  no  longer,  but  discover 

The  questionable  core  of  truth,  deep  hid 

In  the  semblable  exterior  of  deceit. 

I  hang  all  limp  upon  a  rack  of  doubt; 

And  each  dry  leering  glance  can  pierce  and  wound  me. 

Oh  God,  I  am  full  loth  to  go;  but  yet 

I  must  once  see  her  face  to  face,  to  scan 

If  any  shame  lie  hidden  in  her  heart, 

If  summer  lust  lie  under  this  cold  snow, 

Before  I  slander  both  our  royal  selves 


32  Tristan  ^f  Isolde  Act  I 


In  yielding  to  these  infamous  suggestions  — 

When  truth  is  got  so  easy,  as  it  seems. 

The  golden  glory  of  a  monarch's  love 

Ought  not  so  readily  be  misted,  spoiled 

And  tarnished  by  mere  breath  of  hate  and  guile. 

Can  she  be  both  so  lovely  and  so  false  ? 

I'll  pluck  the  heart  of  truth  from  out  despair, 

And  live  or  die. 

Exit. 

Enter  Gervaine  hastily,  knocking  for  the 

servant.    Reads  letter. 

GERVAINE 

Thou  must  be  true  to  me,  my  Isabel; 
I  shall  not  think  thee  faithless,  though  were  all 
The  courtiers  in  the  kingdom,  far  and  wide, 
Gemmed  with  thy  miniature,  as  with  a  cross, 
To  hang  upon  the  breast;  thy  face  a  charm, 
To  invite  the  mildest  powers  to  intercede 
For  their  salvation.     Love,  I  shall  return 
Upon  the  morrow  morn;  be  well  till  then. 
Let  me  possess  thy  thoughts,  as  thou  dost  mine. 

Enter  servant. 

Take  thou  this  to  mistress  Isabel, 
And  take  this  fee  for  silence  and  for  haste; 
I  must  be  off. 

Exit  Gervaine. 
SERVANT 

I  go.  I  go.  'Tis  a  good  business.  A  summary 
messenger  with  variable  goodly  and  golden  fees,  ac 
cording  to  the  wealth  of  the  sender.  So  speed  me  well. 
I  ought  to  frame  a  petition  of  license  to  the  king;— 
but  that  craves  further  thought.  Ah,  —  but  then,  'tis 
secret,  and  the  matter  has  no  tongue;  why  should  there 
then  be  ears? 

Exit. 


Act  I  Tristan  &f  Isolde  33 


Enter  Cathbad  by  another  door,  stealthily, 
and  in  haste.  He  knocks  on  servant's  door, 
and  reads  letter  aloud. 

CATHBAD 

I  would  that  I  could  steal  thee,  Isabel, 

As  I  have  stolen  thy  miniature.     Forgive, 

If  one  will  tell  of  my  dear  loving  theft. 

'Twas  love  that  stole,  for  thou'st  stolen  my  heart; 

And  'twas  a  fair  reprise;  forgive  me,  fair, 

If  I  have  dared  to  love  and  hoped  to  win. 

Disdain  not  all  my  love;  each  smallest  part 

Were  then  enough  t'  excuse  my  suit  to  thee. 

Enter  servant.     Seeing  Cathbad  with  letter. 

SERVANT 
Aside. 

Upon  my  word,  another  missive  full  of  vows  and 
blood.  Is  all  the  world  in  love?  Is  Venus  (who,  I 
have  heard,  is  lit  with  lover's  eyes)  —  is  Venus  in  the 
ascendant;  and  am  I  made  a  Mercury  general  to  the 
males  ? 

CATHBAD 

Thou  knowest  the  lady  Isabel;  take  this 

Upon  the  silent  wings  of  haste  to  her; 

And  let  this  fledge  thy  wings  and  clog  thy  tongue. 

Gives  him  purse. 
SERVANT 

No  more  missives  from  Peter  to  the  scullery.  I 
serve  now  only  the  nobility.  Business  is  heavy,  and 
I  shall  soon  keep  a  clerk. 

CATHBAD 

What  sayest  thou,  fool?     Haste  and  dispatch. 

SERVANT 

Yes,  yes,  I  go. 

Exit. 


34  Tristan  &f  Isolde  Act  I 


Bugle  sounded  for  the  hunt  to  gather. 
CATHEAD 

They  muster  now  anon. 

Hunters    -fill    the    stage    with   hounds   and 
implements  of  the  chase. 
Enter  among  others  Melot,  Cathbad,  Ger- 
vaine,  jEngus,  and  Arthur.     Melot  stands 
anxiously  in  the  background,  looking  for  the 


HUNTERS   IN   CHORUS 

The  saddled  steeds  in  the  mews  are  stamping; 

The  coistril  asses  bray. 

There  is  music  of  chains  and  of  bits  loud  champing; 
And  rattle  of  armour  and  buckles  aclamping, 

Amid  the  shrilly  neigh 

Of  blooded  coursers,  that  scorn  the  ground, 
With  a  toss  of  the  mane  and  a  springing  bound. 

MELOT 
Where  is  the  king? 

GERVAINE 

We  wait  for  him. 

MELOT 

Perhaps  he  will  not  come;  he  seemed  in  doubt. 

CHORUS 
The  armour  is  standing,  all  bright  in  the  hall, 

Bows  and  arrows  and  spears. 
The  leader  is  ready,  awaiting  the  call; 
The  huntsmen  are  eager  for  night  to  fall; 

Too  slow  the  daylight  wears 
A  laggard  pace  through  the  waning  sky; 
Were  the  day  a  hound,  'twould  quicklier  fly. 
Curtain  descends  on  this  tableau. 


Act  II 


THE  balcony  of  Isolde's  room  in  the  wing  of 
Castle  Tintagel.  To  the  left  rear  is  the  large 
turret  seen  in  Act  I,  from  which  wide  circular 
steps  lead  down  to  the  stage.  To  the  right  rear  is  the 
deep,  dark  forest.  The  left  foreground  has  a  large 
round-arched  portico  and  entrance  to  the  castle.  The 
right  foreground  has  a  low  marble  seat,  draped  with 
dark  purple  cloth.  There  is  a  balustrade  extending 
around  the  rear  of  the  balcony;  and  in  the  right  rear 
there  is  a  flight  of  broad  steps  descending  from  the 
stage  to  the  level  of  the  forest  below.  There  is  no  light 
save  the  warm,  soft  light  of  the  evening,  and  the  mild 
effluence  of  the  crescent  moon  above  the  turret. 


Act  II 

Early  Evening 


As  curtain  rises,  Isolde  is  discovered  in  her  balcony,  listening 
to  the  hunting  song  below. 

CHORUS  OF  HUNTERS. 

In  a  trice  we  are  off,  and  our  steeds  shall  wind  us 

Through  caverns  of  the  night; 
Swifter  than  light,  for  the  sparks  rain  behind  us; 
We  shall  pass  and  return,  ere  the  slow  dawn  can  find  us 

Yea,  swifter  than  the  light. 
Our  coursers  pant  fire;  it  flames  in  the  eye, 
It  flares  in  the  nostril;  they  burn  as  they  fly. 

Curtain  entirely  raised. 

Some  huntsmen  abroad  are  outspreading  the  mesh 

Of  the  finely  woven  snare. 

The  hounds  are  straining  with  might  at  the  leash, 
With  nostrils  astart  for  the  smell  of  flesh; 

They  sniff  for  a  taint  in  the  air. 
At  a  leap  with  each  pulse  they  will  skim  away; 
Afar,  in  the  distance,  resounds  their  bay. 

ISOLDE 

The  evening  seems  a  winter  dream  of  spring, 
So  mild  and  soft,  so  mystic  and  unreal, 
Ephemeral  as  childhood's  memory, 
When  peeping  through  the  vacancy  of  age. 
The  air  is  full  of  strange  enchantments  now, 
Filling  the  senses  numb  with  soft  delight. 
Now  were  a  time  most  fitly  sought  to  die; 


38  Tristan  &  Isolde  Act  II 

Half  dreaming  melt  into  the  elements, 
When  they  seem  most  alive  and  beautiful : 
To  fade  into  the  purple  of  the  west. 

Enter  Brangcsna  with  Isabel. 
BRANG^ENA 

Isolde,  Isolde, — 

ISOLDE 

'Tis  thou,  Brangsena. 

BRANG^ENA 

Yes,  with  greetings  from  the  king, 
Thy  liege  and  husband  Mark. 

ISOLDE 
Aside. 

My  liege  and  husband. 

BRANG^ENA 

Sends  thus  his  pleasure  to  his  loving  queen. 

ISOLDE 
Aside. 

His  loving  queen. 

BRANG^NA 

He  rests  in  armour,  waiting  for  the  hunt, 
Which  starts  at  fall  of  night;  and  bids  thee  come. 
He  lacked  thy  presence  at  the  evening  meal; 
And  will  be  gone  till  dawn. 

ISOLDE 

Brangsena,  stay. 
I  shall  send  Isabel — 

To  Isabel. 

Go  thou,  and  say 

Unto  my  lord  the  king,  I  am  not  well : 
Tell  him  I  have  retired  to  my  room. 


Act  II  Tristan  Sf  Isolde  39 

BRANG^ENA 

He  can  but  spend  a  moment  with  thee ;  go, 
I  pray  thee,  dear,  and  use  him  not  so  hard. 

ISOLDE 
To  Isabel. 
Thou  hast  my  answer;  bring  it  to  the  king. 

Exit  Isabel. 

Brangsena,  come  thou  close;  my  heart  is  full 
Of  strange  forebodings  and  of  portents  wild. 

BRANG,ENA 

Bad  dreams  are  said  to  augur  opposites, 
And  bring  us  joys  in  weeds  of  sorrow  draped. 
I  almost  fear  to  tell  my  other  charge. 

ISOLDE 
What  is  it  ? 

BRANG^ENA 

Isolde,  one  more  hasty  message, 
Breathed  in  a  secret  ear  from  one  thou  lovest. 

ISOLDE 
Tristan! 

BRANG^NA 

Yes,  his  avant  courier  waits, 
And  bides  thine  answer. 

ISOLDE 
Haste  thee,  speak. 

BRANGvENA 

He  brings  his  master's  greeting  from  anear; 
And  begs  thee  grant  an  audience  for  to-night. 
Sir  Tristan  lingers  hidden  in  the  wood, 
To  hear  thy  word. 


40  Tristan  SP  Isolde  Act  II 

ISOLDE 

Is  Tristan  well  ?     Much  changed  ? 
Ah,  tell  me,  sweet,  how  looks  that  knightly  front  ? 

BRANG^NA 

Isolde,  hark,  I  have  not  seen  thy  love; 
Only  his  courier  bides  at  the  postern  gate: 
Sir  Tristan  is  not  come;  and  RuaPs  horse 
Paws  restlessly,  and  curvets  many  rods 
Under  the  outer  barbacan,  as  if 
The  brute  could  also  share  anxiety. 
They  chafe  to  hear  thy  bidding,  and  the  sign 
To  tell  the  joyous  news  Tristan  may  come 
And  feed  his  famished  eyes  upon  thy  face. 

ISOLDE 

I  knew  not  why  I  could  not  bide  the  king; 
Some  prophecy  had  whispered  in  my  heart 
Its  mute  unworded  oracle. 

Hunters  singing  below: 
CHORUS 

The  hounds  are  off,  and  the  flying  steeds  lag, 

As  over  the  hills  they  go. 
Our  arrows  will  fly  to  the  heart  of  the  stag, 
Caught  wild  in  a  leap  from  crag  to  crag, 

But  for  the  hounds  too  slow. 
Our  spears  will  pierce  the  frenzied  boar; 
And  the  mildest  grasses  will  drink  his  gore. 

Jubilant  shouts  below  of  "The  king!"  "Hail 
to  the  king!" 

CHORUS 

The  echoes  will  rouse  at  the  sound  of  our  horn: 

Tan  tan  tara  tara  ta  lira — 
'Twill  shiver  the  night  like  the  coming  of  morn; 


Act  II  Tristan  df  Isolde  41 

From  the  hills  to  the  valleys  'twill  rocking  be  borne: 

Tan  tan  tara  tara  ta  lira — 
Heigho  for  the  hunter  that  quarries  the  beast! 
A  prize  of  the  fell  and  first  place  at  the  feast. 

Isolde  goes  to  the  balcony  and  looks  out. 
Horns,  stamping,  etc. 

ISOLDE 

The  king  has  gone  upon  the  hunt.     Oh  haste, 
Bid  Rual  speed  and  tell  his  master  this: 
Were  Isolde  in  her  death's  last  agony, 
She  yet  would  rise  to  find  her  life  renewed 
In  his  embrace.     Bid  his  retainer  haste. 

BRANG^ENA 

Isolde,  pray  do  not  receive  him  now. 

When  Mark  had  spoken,  I  did  think  all  well; 

But  now,  I  would  not  have  thee  meet  him. 

ISOLDE 

Peace ! 
Not  risk  as  much  for  him  as  he  for  me  ? 

BRANG^ENA 

He  knows  not  of  the  danger  on  his  trail; 
And  Melot,  when  he  called  me  to  the  king, 
Looked  gracious,  more  than  was  his  wont. 

ISOLDE 
The  more  my  risk,  the  greater  sacrifice. 

BRANG^ENA 

To-morrow  will  be  safer. 

ISOLDE 

Brangaena,  haste. 

If  he  dare  come,  shall  I  not  dare  receive  him  ? 
My  happiness  is  hanging  by  a  thread. 


42  Tristan  ^f  Isolde  Act  II 


Brangsena,  speed  thy  task,  and  bide  within 

With  Isabel;  nor  come  to  tell  me  later 

What  thou  hast  said.     I  know  that  he  will  come. 

I  send  thee  thus  with  no  alternative, 

And  will  receive  no  answer;  —  go. 

BRANG^ENA 

The  signal,  lady,  when  he  may  approach  ? 

ISOLDE 

Ah,  yes,  almost  forgot.     My  veil  shall  hang; 
He  knows  the  veil,  'twas  treasured  since  he  left. 
'Twill  hang  from  out  the  upper  turret's  mullion; 
Where,  long  ago,  it  often  hung  before. 
He  knows  the  place,  too,  the  same  balcony 
That  overlooks  the  wood.     Tell  him  when  night, 
With  precious  darkness  blinds  his  eager  sight, 
I  shall  await  him.     Go,  Brangaena,  go; 
And  I  myself  shall  hang  this  evening  star;  — 
No  other  hands  but  these. 

Exit  Brangczna.      Isolde  goes  above  to  the 
turret. 

ISOLDE 

It  grows  already  dark.     I  think  that  night, 
Always  the  friend  of  lovers,  hears  my  prayer. 

Looking  out  from  above. 

The  cavalcade  goes  out  the  northern  gate; 
And  Tristan's  message  is  already  passed. 
Isolde  chants. 
SONG  TO  THE  NIGHT 

Come,  night,  and  fold  the  world  in  thine  embrace; 
On  the  yielding  breast  of  earth  sink  in  repose. 
Join  waiting  lovers  at  each  trysting  place; 

And  each  dull  sightless  eye  of  daylight  close. 
Steal  soft,  but  quickly. 


Act  II  Tristan  &  Isolde  43 

The  gloaming  is  the  day  grown  sick  with  yearning 
For  his  fond  lover  and  eve's  dewy  bed: 

Oh  come,  thou  night,  the  heliotrope  is  turning, 
And  each  earth  flower  hangs  a  weary  head. 
Steal  soft,  but  quickly. 

Each  maiden  lily  weeps  a  tear  of  anguish, 

A  tear  of  hope  and  disappointment  blent; 

iful  earth  doth  lani 


Come  quickly,  all  the  mournful  earth  doth  languish. 
Who,  envious  of  our  joy,  doth  hold  thee  pent  ? 
Steal  soft,  but  quickly. 

The  longing  shadows  stretch  out  toward  the  east; 

The  dark  moon  in  its  crescent's  arm  is  clasped. 
The  dusky  valley  rolls  in  billowy  mist: 

Day  should,  ere  this,  his  golden  last  have  gasped. 
Steal  soft,  but  quickly. 

Come,  Tristan,  let  the  querulous  day  not  hold  thee; 

These  arms  will  fold  thee.     Come,  thou  wanderer. 
Let  daylight  linger;  can  thy  love  not  bold  thee 

To  dare  a  dying  sun  for  sake  of  her, 
Who  bids  thee  quickly  ? 

Fly,  doves,  and  wake  the  owls  to  hasten  evening; 

Invite  the  nightingale  to  her  complaint: 
Perhaps  the  day's  wan  ghost  is  lingering 

For  mournful  obsequies ;  but  I  am  faint. 
Come,  night,  yea  quickly. 

The  horn  of  the  hunter  no  longer  wounds  my  ear; 

Even  the  chattering  echo  is  asleep. 
Come,  love,  each  wind  doth  murmur  thou  art  near; 

From  bending  heavens  restless  stars  do  peep. 
Tristan, — Tristan. 


44  Tristan  {%f  Isolde  Act  II 

How  often,  in  my  thought,  I  called  thy  name, 

And  always  didst  thou  come;  why  stayest  thou 

now? 

However  far  thou  wert,  'twas  yet  the  same; 
Thou  earnest  at  my  bidding  breathed  low. 
Tristan, — Tristan. 

I  call  thee  now  in  voice;  my  lips  would  press 

A  burning  kiss  upon  each  syllable; 
Yet  com'st  thou  not.     Dost  fear  thy  happiness  ? 

Tristan,  'tis  eve,  I  hear  the  vesper  knell 

Vesper  rings. 
The  day's  death,  Tristan. 

Enter  Tristan  below,  into  the  pale  moon 
light.     Isolde  sees  him. 

Oh,  Tristan,  come  not  with  the  knell,  pray  wait — 

Oh  come  not,  stay  but  one  eternal  trice; 
Some  premonition — 

Tristan  leaps  up  the  turret  steps.     Isolde 
comes  to  meet  him.    They  embrace. 

TRISTAN 

Love,  Isolde,  Fate, 

For  once,  is  kind:  I've  paid  the  exile's  price 
Of  tears  and  hopes. 

ISOLDE 

I've  borne  thy  kiss  unsmirched  upon  my  lips, 
Inviolate,  since  thou  hast  left. 

TRISTAN 

'Twas  long. 

I've  hungered  often  for  this  moment,  love: 
My  soul  seemed  haggard,  when  removed  from  thee. 


Act  II  Tristan  df  Isolde  45 


ISOLDE 

As  mine  removed  from  thine.     Ah,  Tristan,  love, 
Thou  art  my  sunlight;  let  me  sheaf  thee  up 
And  garner  thee  within  my  arms. 

TRISTAN 

My  bosom 
Has  been  cold  since  thou  hast  left  it  bare. 

ISOLDE 

Fold  me  up  within  thine  arms  again, 
To  feel  thy  wandering  breath  upon  my  brow; 
Let  me  be  islanded  in  thine  embrace; 
And  let  the  ocean  of  humanity 
Reel  and  stagger  in  a  waste  beyond. 

TRISTAN 

Once  more  to  have  thee  close  to  me,  my  love  — 
'Tis  like  a  re-discovery  of  home: 
A  welling  fountain  in  a  desert  plain, 
When  one  had  feared  his  hopes  were  a  mirage. 
Thou  art  no  dream,  my  love  ? 

ISOLDE 

How  pale  thou  art! 

TRISTAN 

I  left  my  life  behind  me,  when  I  went, 
And  now  return  to  living  powers  again: 
Once  more  I  breathe  the  vital  airs  and  live. 

ISOLDE 

Where  hast  thou  wandered  through  these  long  sad 
months  ? 

TRISTAN 

Through  lonely  deserts,  for  thou  wert  not  there. 
The  flowers  had  no  beauty  in  my  sight; 
The  harvests  waved  for  everyone  but  me; 


46  Tristan  &  Isolde  Act  II 

The  early  winds  were  odourless  for  me. 

I  lived  but  in  the  past,  and  in  my  hopes, 

E'en  though  they  perjured  my  resolves  and  thine. 

Isolde,  what  deep  vows  we  swore! 

I  have  seen  thee,  love,  now  let  me  go. 

My  heaven  is  attained  before  my  death; 

And  let  us  both  think  this  a  gracious  dream, 

Then  vows  and  honour  both  would  be  intact. 

ISOLDE 

What  spirit  prompted  us  to  take  those  vows  ? 
My  heart  has  never  joined  my  hand  in  them; 
Thou  hadst  not  gone  beyond  the  threshold,  love, 
Before  I  wished  thee  back  again. 

TRISTAN 

Isolde, 

More  faithless  was  I  to  my  vows  than  thou. 
The  further  I  withdrew  from  thee,  the  more 
I  languished  for  return.     At  every  step, 
A  vow  rebroken,  and  I  wandered  far. 
How  does  my  uncle  Mark?     What  have  I  said! 
Forgive  me,  God,  for  mention  of  his  name. 
How  does  my  liege  the  king  since  I  have  gone  ? 

ISOLDE 

Quite  well.     Why  hast  thou  not  sent  messages 
These  many  months  ? 

TRISTAN 

I  could  not  send  to  him: 
He  has  become  a  barrier  'twixt  our  loves, 
No  longer  mine  own  kin,  yet  innocent. 
What  do  we  here  ?     We  both  are  outcasts,  love, 
Shipwrecked  in  hope  upon  a  desperate  sea 
Of  throbbing  wholesome  life  about  us  both. 
I  saw  some  holy  men  upon  my  road, 


Act  II  Tristan  &  Isolde  47 

Some  palmers,  happy  in  their  purged  lives; 

But  I  was  all  too  happy  in  my  sin 

To  understand  their  bliss,  or  envy  them; 

To  be  as  blithe  and  innocent  as  they. 

I  wished  for  death;  I  longed  and  prayed  for  death; 

I  was  in  love  with  death,  and  tried  to  woo  her  soft; 

But  hopes  of  seeing  thee  brought  life  again, 

And  made  me  false  to  her.     I  never  knew 

That  men  could  have  such  life  in  their  despair. 

My  hopelessness  gave  courage  still  to  live; 

For  I  had  reached  the  lowest  ebb  of  all; 

And  any  change,  perforce,  was  betterment. 

The  winter  set  a  tombstone  on  the  earth; 

Snow  drifted  in  the  hollows  of  my  heart; 

And  yet  I  lived.     And  then  the  summer  came. 

No  blossoms  bloomed  within  my  stony  breast; 

But  sterile  hope  began  to  stir  again. 

Couldst  thou  not  be  far  happier,  were  I  dead  ? 

ISOLDE 

I've  lived  with  Mark,  because  he  was  thy  kin. 
I  tried  to  love  him  as  I  would  have  loved 
Thy  child,  if  thou  hadst  died  before  my  time, 
Leaving  this  remnant  of  thyself  to  me, 
To  cheer  my  widowhood.     The  attempt  was  sick 
And  failed,  alas!     Husband  and  child  in  one — 
He  took  thy  place, — I  did  not  raise  him  to  it. 
How  could  it  help  but  fail  ?     Alas,  it  failed, 
Because  I  always  prayed  that  it  would  fail. 
Why  speak  we  of  what  was,  or  what  will  be  ? 

TRISTAN 

I've  lived  so  long  within  the  past,  'tis  grown 
The  only  language  I  can  speak.     The  runes, 
Glooming  the  infinite  future,  still  are  dumb 
And  unintelligible.     Here  we  stand 

4 


48  Tristan  &  Isolde  Act  II 

Upon  the  keen  point  of  a  mountain  peak, 
Both  sides  abysses,  past  and  those  to  come. 
No  higher  satisfaction  than  a  fear 
Darkening  the  depths. 

ISOLDE 

Thou'rt  come  again; 
King  Mark  is  on  the  hunt;  the  night  is  ours. 

TRISTAN 

Ah,  yes,  we  ought  be  happy,  ought  we  not  ? 
But  happiness  is  yet  an  unknown  tongue, 
Too  long  forgotten  to  be  reassumed 
With  all  the  fluency  of  constant  use. 
We'll  speak  about  the  past  as  if  'twere  past. 
We  should  be  happy,  ought  we  not,  my  love  ? 
Come,  let  us  speak  again  of  what  has  happed, 
As  though  'twere  buried,  and  could  never  rise 
As  a  ghost  to  fright  us  with  unreal  fears. 
We'll  speak  of  what  is  gone,  as  'twere  a  tale 
Others  have  lived,  and  lived  unhappily. 

ISOLDE 
How  earnest  thou  here,  to  Cornwall  ? 

TRISTAN 
Abstractedly. 

Ah,  time  has  brought  again  undreamed  joys; 
And  all  is  safe;  my  old  retainer  lurks 
Within  the  shadow  of  the  king's  approach. 
Oh,  all  the  restless  months  I  drave  abroad, 
Since  last  we  parted,  now  seem  swallowed  up 
In  one  abyss  of  painful  memory — 
A  nightmare  brooding  o'er  a  bed  of  pain. 
The  past  is  joined  again,  and  I  awake, 
As  doth  the  year  from  winter  sleep  to  spring. 
It  seems  as  if  I  never  left  thy  lips; 
Nor  pressed  the  unwilling  hand  in  last  adieu. 


Act  II  Tristan  @f  Isolde 


49 

ISOLDE 

Speak  not  that  knell  again  if  thou  dost  love. 
Nay,  Tristan,  there  will  be  no  more  adieus; 
For  thou  wilt  never  leave  me,  love,  to  die 
Forsaken  of  thy  love;  nay,  not  to  die, — 
Far  worse  than  death,  to  wander  sinfully, 
Like  an  unshriven  ghost,  through  all  the  toil 
Of  desolate  days  and  desert  nights;  to  pine 
Through  leaden  moments  sluggish  as  the  years 
Of  sunless  aeons  at  the  midnight  pole. 

TRISTAN 

With  slight  scorn. 

Ah,  love,  mine  was,  perhaps,  an  easier  lot: 

Through  France  I  wandered,  flitted  through  Provence; 

I  shunned  the  garish  day,  and  rode  by  night, 

Or  else,  in  maddened  heat,  I  lost  myself, 

Vainly  endeavouring  to  forget  our  love, 

As  we  had  promised  at  our  last  farewell. 

I  wandered  thus,  through  dreary,  dreary  days; 

At  length  my  heart  failed;  I  could  go  no  more. 

The  tourney  clarion  sounded  in  my  ears, 

Yet  waked  no  courage  echo  in  my  heart; 

For  I  had  lost  my  spirit  and  my  name, 

The  honour  I  achieved  on  tented  fields, 

Won  at  the  spear's  point,  in  the  enemy's  midst, 

In  many  feudal  wars  and  many  lands. 

ISOLDE 

Tristan,  no  more;  was  fate  less  harsh  with  me? 

I  lingered  here  alone;  no  deeds  could  help 

To  rouse  my  drooping  spirit  from  its  dusk. 

The  world  seemed  but  one  large  and  moveless  shadow, 

Stretched  from  o'erhanging  barren,  naked  boughs 

Over  the  winter's  ice,  opaque  and  chill. 


50  Tristan  @>f  Isolde  Act  II 

I  tried  to  summon  hate  to  kill  my  love — 

To  no  avail.     In  vain,  I  often  mused: 

'Twas  thou  that  slew  my  kinsman  on  my  soil, 

Brave  Morolt.     Yet  was  all  my  fiery  hate, 

The  frenzy  of  my  malice,  turned  to  love, 

Intense,  a  pendular  extreme  swung  full 

To  the  utmost  swing;  for  I  must  love  thee,  knight, 

As  once  I  hated  thee,  fervent  and  fierce : 

No  placid  middle  course  betwixt  extremes. 

TRISTAN 

Tell  me,  Isolde,  I  know  thou  lovest  me; 
Thou'lt  answer  me  the  truth,  I  know  thou  wilt. 
This  also  could  avail  thy  former  hate 
To  help  thee  slay  an  outraged  love. 
A  babbling  rumour  brought  the  jealous  news 
That  Tristan,  noble  Tristan  Lyonesse, 
Had  wed  the  fair  Iseult  of  Bretigny. 

ISOLDE 

Ah,  Tristan,  say  not  so,  deny  it. 
Rumour  hath  often  fashioned  lies  before. 
Why  pause?     Thine  arms  release  me:  speak, — 
Oh  speak  the  truth,  the  worst,  the  bitterest  truth. 
Speak,  Tristan,  thou  dost  know     .     .     . 

I,  too,  am  wed. 

TRISTAN 

Isolde,  listen  till  the  end: 
In  many  lands  I  wandered,  anguish  driven, 
Until  I  came,  at  length,  to  Bretigny. 
My  old  ancestral  home  in  ruins  lay; 
But  since  its  ruin  imaged  forth  my  heart, 
I  thought  that  there  I  haply  could  content 
My  few  last  days  among  its  mossed  walls. 
Iseult  of  Bretigny  dwelt  close  near  me. 


Act  II  Tristan  {If  Isolde  51 

She  was  a  youthful  love;  I  knew  her  long. 

There  was  a  magic  in  the  very  name; 

And  I  betrothed  myself  to  cure  my  grief, 

To  turn  it  to  some  positive  pain  of  woe, 

That  I  might  then  live  down.     I  prayed  that  God 

Would  blot  thy  hovering  image  from  my  mind; 

And  aid  me  to  regain  what  I  had  lost. 

One  lonely  evening,  in  the  calm,  there  came 

A  thought  as  wild  as  ever  seared  my  brain: 

"Thou  dost  not  love  this  Iseult;  canst  thou  bring 

This  innocent  lamb,  to  quench  a  sinful  flame 

With  chaste  and  trustful  blood  ?     Thou  lov'st  her  not : 

'Twere  better  one  should  die  than  both  should  live 

A  mockery  on  life  and  love."     Then,  too, 

The  desecration  of  thy  love  wrought  so, 

I  could  no  further  wander  in  my  suit. 

And  so  I  broke  it  off,  confessed  my  guilt; 

Told  her  the  motive  of  dishonoured  vows. 

Had  she  but  scorned  me,  I  could  bear  it  well. 

Ah  no,  Isolde,  no  such  joy  for  me. 

The  drops  of  pity  stood  within  those  eyes, 

Melting  her  pride.     She  took  my  hand  in  hers, 

Released  me  to  the  world  again,  to  thee; 

Said  she  was  proud  to  have  occupied  thy  place; 

And,  like  a  mongrel  cur,  I  slunk  away 

Whipped  with  her  kindness. 

ISOLDE 
And  then — 

TRISTAN 

And  then  I  wandered  with  blind  steps, 
As  listless  and  as  wild  as  are  the  paths 
The  sorrowing  wind  makes  through  the  waving  grass 
At  sunset,  when  the  world  is  bowed  in  grief. 
Thou  wert  an  unacknowledged  beacon  to  my  feet. 


52  Tristan  S§f  Isolde  Act  II 

I  wandered  here,  as  to  the  very  place 

That  I  did  once  avoid;  and  when  I  saw 

The  dream-familiar  haunts  I  knew  so  well, 

I  came  to  see  thee  once  before  my  death, 

To  throw  myself  once  more  upon  my  knees 

To  beg  thee — 

Isolde,  hear,  there  is  one  saintly  gule 

Beaming  still  white  on  my  besmirched  escutcheon: 

My  tears  have  washed  that  spot  and  kept  it  pure. 

One  bar  of  honour  beams  upon  my  shield; 

I've  never  lost  my  love  for  thee;  I've  often  tried. 

ISOLDE 
Didst  thou  not  love  Iseult  of  Bretigny  ? 

TRISTAN 

Isolde,  hearken,  love,  when  I  was  gored, 

Struck  to  the  earth  by  Morolt's  poisonous  sword, 

It  was  Isolde  healed  me  of  that  wound; 

But,  in  the  healing,  thou  didst  then  inflict 

A  deeper,  subtler  wound,  deep  to  the  heart. 

Thou  couldst  not  heal  the  gash  thyself  didst  make. 

I  turned  to  Iseult  for  a  second  cure. 

I  bared  my  breast  to  her;  she  had  no  spell, 

No  soothing  touch  to  balm  away  the  burn. 

Wouldst  thou,  Isolde,  that  I  had  been  cured  ? 

A  long  pause,  then  Tristan,  startled. 

What  is  that  light,  Isolde  ? 

ISOLDE 

Where,  my  love? 

TRISTAN 

Above. 

ISOLDE 

Oh,  'tis  Brangsena  in  her  tower  room. 


Act  II  Tristan  ^f  Isolde  53 

TRISTAN 

Aside. 

Love-making  under  shadows,  once  again; 
All  love- joy  slain  with  the  first  beam  of  day 
Impaled,  perhaps,  to  be  held  up  to  shame. 
A  life  of  guilty  blisses  bred  in  the  dark: — 
Love-making,  poisoned  full  of  fears  and  conscience, 
While  'tis  a-making — A  cursed  thing  of  sins 
Too  deep  to  be  confessed. 

ISOLDE 

What  ails  thee,  love  ? 

TRISTAN 

A  still-born  joy,  all  moribund  at  birth; 
An  aspen  bliss,  that  quavers  in  the  breath, 
Spent  in  professing  it — Oh  God! 

Rising. 

ISOLDE 

Thou  wilt  not  leave  me. 

TRISTAN 

No,  not  against  thy  will. 
I  would  abide  with  thee  eternally; 
Share  every  breath  with  thee  and  die  with  thee, 
To  moulder  with  thee  till  our  dust  embraced; 
And  rise  with  thee  to  glory  'mid  the  stars. 

ISOLDE 

Oh,  would  that  I  had  poisoned  both  of  us; 
Or  that  the  shrieking  spirits  of  the  storm 
Had  never  disobeyed  my  beck.     I  once 
Could   charm   the   winds    and   seas;    command   their 

strength, 

As  if  they  were  my  thralls.     I  summoned  them 
To  gulf  the  hostile  ship  that  bore  us  both. 


54  Tristan  df  Isolde  Act  II 

Three  long  wild  nights  I  called,  and  the  sea  heard, 
Scourged  like  a  brutish  monster  under  the  lash; 
But  still  the  arch  spirit  laughed  upon  the  wave; 
Shrilled  through  his  frothy  teeth,  and  hissed,  "Isolde, 
Thou  too  art  now  controlled;  we  would  obey, 
If  thou  wert  free  to  give  command.     We  serve 
None  other  but  thy  will,  none  other,  none." 
And  through  the  rigging  shrieked  the  echo:  "None." 
I  knew  then  that  my  hate  was  almost  love. 

TRISTAN 

Then  willingly  would  I  have  died  with  thee. 
I  felt  no  shame  in  that  last  wild  embrace; 
I  thought  that  it  had  been  our  last;  for  life 
Had  terrors  for  me  worse  than  death;  and  thou 
Hadst  once  before  pointed  a  sword  at  me. 

ISOLDE 

But  that  is  past,  and  thou  art  here  again. 
I  married  Cornwall  to  be  near  to  thee; 
I  never  loved  the  king. 

TRISTAN 

My  uncle  Mark- 
How  long  must  I  draw  thus  my  breath  in  shame! 
Oh  God,  the  worm  within  the  rose  again 
That  seemed  so  damask  fair;  the  beady  eyes, 
Blinking  like  sleeping  serpents  on  the  brim 
Of  my  sweet  cup  of  life.     How  long,  how  long, — 
Perhaps  we  might  have  lived  too  happily, 
Aspiring  for  a  paradise  on  earth. 

ISOLDE 
Tristan,  thou  wert  nearer  when  away  from  me. 

TRISTAN 

And  I  must  go  away  again,  Isolde. 
I  would  not  have  thee  seem  dishonourable. 


Act  II  Tristan  ^f  Isolde  55 

Shall  tongues  besmirch  the  name  I  love  to  hear, 
Clothing  our  loves  in  shame  ? 

ISOLDE 

Sorrow  and  shame 

Have  bowed  me  to  the  yoke  I  have  to  bear. 
Is  it  for  this  that  I  have  prayed  so  long  ? 

TRISTAN 

My  prayer  would  have  thee  better  than  thou  knowest. 
Pardon,  my  love,  I  would  not  hurt  thy  fears; 
But  the  very  strength  of  love  I  bear  to  thee 
Seems  brutal  in  its  force  and  violence. 
I  could  not  willingly  do  hurt  unto 
The  merest  gossamer  of  thy  fine-spun  wish, 
Trembling  with  rainbow  hopes  under  the  sun. 
My  love  for  thee  would  have  thee  pedestalled 
Above  the  possible  abuse  of  men. 
Isolde,  half  my  grief  is  grief  for  thee  alone, 
Unshared  by  any  thoughts  of  my  own  pain. 

ISOLDE 

Tristan,  thy  name  is  sadness,  yet  I  feel 
I  too  through  all  this  tearful  time  have  earned 
A  privilege  to  share  that  name  with  thee: 
Its  spell  has  cast  an  ever-deepening  shade 
Upon  my  life,  until  it  grew  my  own. 

TRISTAN 

The  honey  time  of  breathed  vows  is  past. 
What  shall  we  do  ?     Love,  thou  must  come  with  me. 
We  cannot  linger  thus;  King  Mark  must  know 
I  have  thy  whole  heart;  thou  hast  naught  beyond 
To  give  to  him.     We  can  no  longer  lie. 
I  would  not  hate  my  kinsman  as  my  foe; 
Stealing  in  honour's  theft  what  fate  gave  me. 
Isolde,  speak,  say  thou  wilt  fly  with  me. 


56  Tristan  &  Isolde  Act  II 

We  take  but  what  is  ours;  come,  Isolde, 
Thou  must  come;  for  I  take  but  that  which  is 
By  thy  confession  all  my  own.     Why  wait? 
Time  serves  us  with  occasion;  let  us  fly 
Quick  as  the  time  upon  its  aidant  wing. 

Isolde  is  silent  for  a  moment. 
Dost  thou  command  me  leave  thee,  love — thou'rt  mute? 

ISOLDE 

Tristan,  no,  no.     Nay,  go  not,  go  not  now; 
And  yet  my  fears  command  thee  not  to  stay. 
I'll  fly  with  thee,  wherever  thou  wilt  go; 
I've  always  been  with  thee. 

Calls. 

Brangsena, — hist — 

A  noise. 

Enter  Rual,  driving  in  Melot  at    sword's 

point. 

RUAL 

Die,  thou  spying,  smelling,  sneaking  hound. 
If  I  could  make  dispatch  without  my  sword, 
I  would  not  smirch  its  honour  in  thy  gore. 

MELOT 

Look  to  thyself,  thou  Pandarus. 

RUAL 

Beware! 
Tristan,  a  spying  dog! 

TRISTAN 
Put  up  thy  sword. 

Brangcena,    coming    down    hastily    from 
turret. 

BRANGSENA 

Isolde,  I  saw  the  king  approach  the  gate; 
I  could  not  so  mistake  so  high  a  crest. 


Act  II  Tristan  ^f  Isolde  57 

There  seemed  to  lurk  aside  him  one  whose  step 
I  am  familiar  with,  seen  in  the  dark  o'  nights. 

ISOLDE 
Brangsena,  this  is  he.     This  is  the  cur, 

Enter  king  behind,  unnoticed  by  all. 

The  mongrel  hound  who  licked  and  fawned  me  first, 

With  base  and  flattering  tongue.     I  knew  thee,  knave. 

Now,  like  the  dog  thou  art,  thou  show'st  thy  fangs, 

More  like  a  snake  that  bites  a  scorning  heel; 

When  honour  treads  a  shame  in  its  own  dust. 

Thou'rt  waked  again  by  envy  to  new  life. 

The  falsehood  thou  didst  act  against  thy  king, 

The  treason  to  thy  vowed  allegiance, 

Thou  heap'st  upon  another's  honoured  head 

To  save  thy  own.     Thou,  his  informer,  Melot! 

Who  dared  once  offer  me  the  secret  love 

That  thou  betrayest  now,  thy  heat  rebuked! 

Oh,  shame, — let  one  that  has  no  guilt  at  heart 

Be  first  to  cast  the  stone. 

TRISTAN 

Drawing. 

Thou  miscreant  dog, 
Thy  steel  is  drawn;  defend  thyself. 

MELOT 
I'll  not  cross  swords  with  such  as  thou. 

RUAL 

Thou  couldst  do  well  to  die  by  such  a  hand. 
Nay,  too  much  honour  for  a  skulking  wretch; 
'Twould  save  thee  from  deserved  oblivion. 
To  die  by  such  an  arm,  'twould  be  too  much 
For  such  as  thou.     Come,  spend  no  breath  in  prayer; 
Thou'lt  need  it  all.     If  that  thy  coward  legs, 


58  Tristan  gf  Isolde  Act  II 

Well  trained  to  flee,  had  served  not  so  well, 
Thou  wouldst  e'en  now  be  groaning  out  thy  last, 
Upon  the  highway  where  we  met. 

TRISTAN 

Coward, 
One  of  us  two  must  die;  so  guard  thyself. 

They  fight. 

KING 

Coming  forward. 
Tristan! 

Tristan  drops  his  sword,  but  Melot  keeps 
on  fighting.  Rual  interferes  to  guard  his 
master,  and  disarms  Melot;  but  Tristan  has 
been  wounded. 

KING 

Lay  nothing  more  upon  thy  soul. 

RUAL 

To  Melot. 

Cullion  and  coward,  to  strike  at  one  unarmed 
And  undefended! 

Tristan  staggers  into  Rual's  arms. 

KING 

Peace!  throw  down  your  swords — 

Then  to  Melot. 

Yes,  thou  didst  speak  the  truth;  but  yet  from  such 
As  thou  I  cannot  hear  it  said.     Thy  tongue 
Doth  blacken  candour  when  it  utters  it. 
Thy  treasonous  heart  puts  on  the  mask  of  truth; 
What  canst  thou  say  to  answer  this,  I  charge  ? 

Brang&na  and  Isolde  are  with  Tristan  and 
Rual  on  right  of  stage. 


Act  II  Tristan  {%f  Isolde  59 

BRANG^ENA 

Aside. 

Ah,  go,  good  Rual,  lead  him  off. 
Bring  him  to  Bretigny;  all  will  be  well. 
Tristan,  stay  not;  all  will  be  well,  I  know: 
There  is  as  much  of  fate  as  fault  in  this. 
I'll  venture  on  the  presence  of  the  king, 
And  tell  a  secret  to  his  majesty, 
Too  sad  for  condemnation.     Go,  pray  go. 
When  he  learns  all,  he  must  forgive  us  all; 
Or  else  I'll  share  the  lot  of  sin  with  you. 
Oh,  tarry  not,  but  go  immediately. 
I  know  thy  fate;  I  was  its  instrument. 

KING 

To  Melot. 

If  thou  canst  clear  thee  of  the  very  crime 
Thou  standest  now  accuser  for,  I'll  hear; 
Till  then,  be  silent.     Oft,  ere  Tristan  left 
Our  kingdom,  didst  thou  pour  thy  venom  breath 
In  my  unwilling  ears;  with  words  to  hint 
That  Tristan  shaped  succession  for  my  crown 
By  treasonous  ways.     I  see  thy  soul 
Ambitious  to  outstar  by  foulest  means 
The  rising  sun  of  Tristan  soon  eclipsed. 
Envy,  whetted  on  malice,  forked  thy  tongue; 
Calumniating  others  but  to  hide 
Thy  nude,  defeated  guilt  in  others'  shame; 
Building  thyself  in  honour  on  the  wrecks 
Of  those  whose  fame  and  honourable  name 
Thou  levelest  down.     Melot,  if,  in  three  days, 
Thou  hast  not  cleared  thyself  of  what  I  charge; 
Or,  if  thy  shame,  last  remnant  of  thine  honour, 
Banish  thee  not  hence;  I  shall  proclaim 


60  Tristan  &  Isolde  Act  II 

Rewards  upon  thy  head,  dead  or  alive. 

Now  go. 

Exit  Melot. 

Is  Tristan  wounded  ? 

BRANGJENA  [faints. 

Slightly,  my  liege;  he 

RUAL 
That  was  a  coward  blow  that  Melot  struck. 

KING 

The  hunt  is  over,  and  the  heart  is  slain. 
My  soul  misgives  me,  oh,  how  I  fear  to  know 
The  bald,  entire  truth. 

Exit  into  castle. 
Curtain. 


Act  III 


THE   king's  audience   chamber  in   Castle  Tin- 
tagel.     The    hall   is  very    high,  round-arched 
and   vaulted.     There  are    massive   pillars    to 
support   the  arches;   and,  to    the   right,  is  a   narrow 
aisle,  between  the  pillars  and  the  wall.     There  are  en 
trances  to  both  right  and  left  foreground.    In  the  centre 
of  the  hall  is  an  elevated  throne,  with  a  single  throne 
chair  upon  it.    The  light  is  given  by  a  burning  cresset. 


Act  HI 

Late  Night 


The  curtain  discovers  King  Mark  alone  upon  his  throne. 
KING 

A  king  should  be  his  people  in  one  man. 
I've  tried  to  be;  but  am  their  griefs  alone, 
And  nothing  of  their  joys.     Ah,  who  would  be 
A  king!     Whom  can  I  trust?     Deluded  fool, 
Sport  for  the  nearest  of  my  heart's  elect, 
Target  for  all  the  wandering  shafts  of  shame. 
And  must  I  spend  my  blood  in  blushes  now, 
That  once  would  give  my  every  drop  for  them  ? 
To  learn  the  truth  from  sources  that  I  hate, 
And  would  have  died  but  to  have  proven  false! 
That  one  I  loved  and  cherished  as  a  son 
Should  turn  the  snake  to  sting  my  nurturing  bosom. 
Did  Fate  need  both  of  them  to  fail  me  now 
In  faithlessness  ?     Whom  have  I  here  about 
To  solace  now  my  life  ?     Its  chiefest  part 
Was  spent  to  rear  my  kingdom  up  for  him; 

Knocking  heard  at  the  door,  to  left. 
And  now  he  fails  me,  and  perhaps  is  dead. 

Knocking.    Then  enter  Brangcena. 
KING 

Thinking  it  his  servant. 
Tell  everyone  I  will  not  be  disturbed. 


64  Tristan  {|f  Isolde  Act  III 

BRANG^ENA 

Thy  servant  has  withdrawn  to  let  me  in; 
I  would  not  be  refused. 

KING 

What — enter  here! 

Thy  shame  ought  take  thee  hence;  ere  my  command 
Burst  out  and  bid  thee  go.     Darest  thou  so  much 
As  force  thyself  ?     I  cannot  bear  thy  face — 
Begone. 

BRANG^ENA 

Oh,  king,  by  all  the  love  that  once 
Did  warm  thy  heart  to  those  thou  long  hast  loved — 
By  all  the  hopes  thou  hadst  of  love  returned, 
Hear  me. 

KING 

Again  be  gulled  by  smooth  deceit; 
And  once  again  be  buffeted  by  lies 
From  one  to  th'  other  ?     No.     Those  that  I  loved 
Have  dallied  with  me  ill  enough  till  now: 
Can  I  expect  the  less  sin,  then,  from  thee, 
To  whom  I  never  leaned  ? 

BRANG^ENA 

Dost  thou  prefer 

To  thus  believe  all  irredeemable  ? 
I  cannot  gloze  it  all,  nor  all  the  guilt 
Extenuate;  I  am  too  deep  myself; 
But  they  were  puppets  both  for  grinning  Fate. 

KING 

Art  thou,  too,  one  of  Ireland's  sorcerers, 
That  play  with  Fate  and  destiny  for  sport  ? 
I've  heard  Isolde  came  from  such  a  stock. 
What  witchcraft  wilt  thou  practise  now  on  me  ? 
Their  sin  was  patent,  glaring,  manifest, 


Act  III  Tristan  &  Isolde  65 

Open  to  view;  wouldst  thou  then  call  me  blind 
Or  idiotic  ?     Go,  my  senses  fail. 
Thunder  is  hovering  o'er  thy  guilty  head. 
Go,  go;  till  now  I  always  thought  thee  far 
Too  small  for  punishment.     Wake  not  my  ire, 
Lest  it  burn  thee  too. 

BRANG^NA 

I  fear  it  not. 

Thine  anger  could  not  hurt  me  half  so  much 
As  silence  forced,  where  truth  could  ease  us  all. 

KING 

Aside. 

I  listened  once  to  Melot  for  my  pain; 
Why  not  to  her  for  solace  ?     God,  the  truth — 
Give  me  the  truth,  e'en  though  the  words  be  spears 
Each  quivering  in  my  breast. 

Aloud. 

Now,  answer  me. 

Upon  thy  life  use  no  evasions,  woman. 
I  would  not  thus  have  brought  thee  to  this  pass; 
Thou'st  made  thy  fate;  I  did  not  summon  thee; 
Now  thou  art  here,  so  answer  truthfully: 
How  long  was  Tristan  here  ? 

BRANG^ENA 

He  came  at  evening,  when  the  hunt  rode  off. 

KING 
Isolde  knew  that  he  would  come  to-night  ? 

BRANG^NA 

Yes,  my  liege,  but  not  before  this  eve. 

KING 
How  did  she  know  that  he  would  come  ? 


66  Tristan  &  Isolde  Act  III 

BRANG.ENA 

He  sent  his  old  retainer,  trusty  Rual, 
To  bring  his  greeting  to  Isolde  and 
Announce  his  coming  with  the  night. 

KING 
Have  they  met  oft  before  in  secrecy  ? 

BRANG^ENA 

They  have,  my  liege,  ere  Tristan  went  away. 

KING 

Oh,  faithless  ones!  and  thou  didst  play  thy  part, 
Always  the  sentinel  to  shamelessness, 
A  looker-out  to  see  the  coast  was  clear, 
Doing  the  service  of  a  withered  bawd, 
Squat  in  thy  watch-tower  on  the  balcony  ? 

BRANG^ENA 

Oh,  say  not  so,  my  liege,  my  lord,— 

KING 

Enough ! 
Enough — I  loathe  thee;  get  thee  hence. 

BRANG^NA 

I  am,  perhaps,  in  guilt;  but  not  so  deep. 
Hear  my  whole  tale;  'twill  win  thee  to  forgive. 

KING 
What  tale  can  take  the  blush  from  off  their  shame  ? 

BRANG^ENA 

Hear  me,  I  pray. 

KING 

Why  does  Isolde  speak  not  for  herself  ? 
What  needs  she  such  as  thou  to  mouth  her  lies  ? 
These  miseries  are  meant  for  two  alone; 
A  third,  and  such  a  third,  intrudes  within 


Act  III  Tristan  gf  Isolde  67 

What  else  were  hushed  in  proudest  privacy. 

What  truth  can  come  from  one  whose  life,  as  thine, 

Was  one  long  practise  of  deceit  ?     Oh,  where 

Are  truth  and  honour,  faith  and  chastity? 

In  Tristan  all  these  qualities  were  met, 

And  bowed  in  mutual  grace  before  he  fell. 

And  Tristan's  lily  smirched,  which  was  as  pure 

In  countenance  as  it  was  gold  at  heart, 

How  wilted  now!     How  shall  I,  then,  trust  thee, 

Whose  business  was  a  lie;  whose  only  duty 

Lay  in  joining  paramours  ? 

BRANG^ENA 

My  liege,  I  pray  thee,  list  my  tale;  and  then, 

If  I  in  aught  have  lied,  design  what  tortures, 

Punishments,  thou  wilt  for  me  to  endure. 

Isolde  cannot  exculpate  herself; 

She  knows  not  why  she  sinned,  nor  why  she  lacked 

Restraint  from  what  she  did. 

KING 

She  knew  full  well 

Her  book  of  self-defense  in  Melot's  case. 
It  were  far  better  if  those  two  had  sinned, 
So  all  my  trust  in  men  would  not  have  fallen 
When  Tristan  fell,  and  all  my  faith  with  him. 

Enter  Tristan,  wounded,  slowly  from  the 
right. 

TRISTAN 

King  Mark,  I  come  here  to  condemn  myself 
Of  sins  by  far  too  deep  for  thy  forgiveness. 

Turning  away  from  Brangcena. 

But  grant  me,  liege,  to  witness  my  own  sin; 
And  not  that  one  whose  office  I  did  scorn 
Inform  against  me.     I  shall  tell  the  truth. 


68  Tristan  @f  Isolde  Act  III 

KING 

Tristan,  thine  honour  is  in  jeopardy. 

Dost  thou  stand  here  a  suppliant  at  my  throne  ? 

TRISTAN 
I  do. 

KING 

A  suppliant  ought  never  wear  a  sword. 

Tristan  gives  up  sword  and  gauntlet  at  foot 
of  throne. 

KING 

Twas  never  yielded  to  an  enemy: 
And  now  he  takes  a  traitor's  sword  away, 
Who  was  that  traitor's  father  and  his  friend. 
I  did  thee  wrong  in  listening  to  Brangaena; 
She  pressed  herself  upon  me. 

BRANGAENA 

Let  me  speak; 
Ye  know  not  what  ye  do  in  ignorance. 

Enter  Isolde  from  the  right  door. 
ISOLDE 

If  both  have  sinned,  my  place  is  at  his  side. 
With  him  I  fell,  with  him  I  will  be  judged. 
For  me,  love  knows  no  higher  law  than  love; 
If  that  be  sin,  I  wait  my  punishment. 

KING 

To  Isolde. 

I  offered  thee  the  whole  of  all  my  crown; 
Thou  giv'st  me  in  return  thy  total  shame. 

To  Tristan. 

In  thee,  Oh,  Tristan,  did  I  live  again 
My  whole  youth's  life,  with  all  my  better  self 


Act  III  Tristan  &f  Isolde  69 

As  Mentor.     Oh,  the  pain,  the  grief,  the  sadness 
And  the  shame! 

TRISTAN 

The  sin  was  mine  alone; 

The  weakness  hers.     Be  just;  and  being  just, 
Be  merciful.     Upon  my  knees  I  beg, 
If  ever  I  have  done  thee  services, 
Hear  me,  as  thou  wouldst  listen  to  a  friend; 
Condemn  me,  as  thou  wouldst  thine  enemy. 

KING 

Speak  not  to  me  of  chivalrous  exploits, 
Of  nations  conquered  and  of  battles  won. 
What  boots  the  worship  at  my  boundaries, 
When  thou  hast  smirched  the  altars  at  my  hearth  ? 
I  looked  on  thee,  at  first,  as  looks  the  sun 
Upon  the  earth  upbrightening  in  his  glance, 
That  never  sees  the  shadows  to  his  rays. 
And  then,  it  seemed,  I  saw  thee  not  so  bright: 
Still  did  I  think  my  eye  was  dimmed,  or  that 
Perchance  some  cloud  had  crept  between,  and  soiled 
The  open  candour  of  thine  honest  eye. 
I  never  thought  that  thou  couldst  prove  me  false; 
But  now  I  see  thy  light  was  all  my  own. 
I  have  deceived  myself  in  thee. 

TRISTAN 

Too  true. 

I  cannot  exculpate  myself;  I  know 
Too  well  the  hellish  depth  of  my  disgrace. 

KING 

Oh,  that  thou  hadst  been  not  so  noble  once! 
There  could  not  now  be  such  a  falling  off; 
Thou  couldst  not  be  so  base.     For  thou  dost  sin 
Doubly  the  more  in  sinning  'gainst  thyself; 


70  Tristan  &  Isolde  Act  III 

And  then  in  sinning  'gainst  expectancy. 
And  treason  in  high  places  dims  the  mark 
Of  other  high  achievement.     There's  a  duty, 
Having  been  noble,  to  continue  so; 
Else  former  nobleness  seems  but  deceit. 
The  buzzing  rumours  of  Sir  Launcelot's  sin 
Have  darked  the  glamour  of  his  services; 
And  Melot,  too,  was  full  of  services — 
I  hate  the  word. 

To  Isolde. 
Did  Melot  lure  thee,  too  ? 

BRANG^NA 

He  did,  my  liege,  but  never  won  response. 

KING 

So  pure  to  Tristan,  yet  so  false  to  me 
Who  never  killed  her  kin. 

ISOLDE 

King  Mark, 

My  wish  is  potent  o'er  the  wills  of  men. 
No  woman's  frailty  is  my  excuse, 
And  where  I've  trespassed,  thou  canst  make  amends. 
My  guilt  was  deeper  far  than  Tristan  knows. 
I  never  have  proved  worthy  of  his  love. 
He  pleaded  with  me  often,  begging  me, 
Beseeching  and  imploring  me  to  tell 
The  shameless  conduct  of  our  secrecy. 
I  would  not  tell  thee,  fearing  for  his  life, 
And  I  was  satisfied  with  half  a  joy, 
Intenser  for  its  mad  anxiety. 
He  would  not  play  the  thief  within  thy  halls, 
And  so  he  left  me  never  to  return, 
But  my  enchantments  brought  him  back  again. 


Act  III  Tristan  &f  Isolde  71 


KING 


He  would  not  play  the  thief  within  my  halls! 
He  stole  my  honour  ere  he  left.     What  need 
For  conscientious  scruples  after  he  took 
That  which  his  absence  never  could  replace  ? 
Thou  wert  my  wife,  the  sharer  of  my  throne — 

ISOLDE 

The  world  has  called  me  Isolde,  Cornwall's  queen; 
My  heart  has  called  me  only  Tristan's  love. 
I  sinned  to  Tristan;  never  sinned  to  thee. 
Where  I  loved  not,  I  could  not  even  trespass. 

KING 

Is  marriage  nothing  but  a  hollow  rite  ? 

ISOLDE 

A  loveless  marriage  is  a  harlotry, 
Allowed  by  law,  but  sinful,  low  and  base. 
In  this  my  love  for  Tristan  was  impure. 

KING 

Yet  we  were  wedded,  were  we  not  ? 

ISOLDE 

We  were;  but  answer  me,  my  king: 

Have  I,  in  all  these  months,  dropped  thee  a  word 

That  might  have  been  construed  as  love  returned  ? 

Have  I  not  been  as  cold  as  icicles, 

Remote  as  winter  snow  in  summer  time, 

Distant  and  chill  ?     I've  never  lied  to  thee. 

Sir  Tristan  had  my  whole  of  heart;  I  had 

No  little  more  to  give;  and  if  I  had, 

I  would  have  been  too  jealous  of  that  little 

Ever  to  yield  it  up  where  love  was  not. 


72  Tristan  df  Isolde  Act  III 


My  pleas  can  touch  thee  not;  yet  know,  Isolde, 
I  loved  thee  once. 

To  Tristan. 

I  sent  thee,  in  all  trust, 
To  Ireland,  to  woo  my  bride  for  me. 

TRISTAN 
Base  Tristan  went  for  thee  and  served  himself. 

ISOLDE 

I  hated  Tristan,  when  he  wooed  for  thee; 
And  jealousy  had  killed  him  thrice  ere  this, 
Had  love  not  conquered  in  its  stead. 

KING 

Isolde, 

I  was  too  proud  to  plead  with  thee  for  love; 
Not  wishing  love  unwillingly  bestowed, 
Or  cold  withheld.     I  could  not,  like  a  youth, 
Make  every  breath  a  hot  petition  fired 
Within  the  breast,  and  sealed  with  deathless  vows. 
My  love  for  thee  was  like  a  high  respect. 
Sometime  I  hoped  and  prayed  that  love  would  come, 
Like  unsought  buds  of  spring,  reburgeoning 
The  boughs  of  last  year's  fall  with  new  year's  bloom. 

ISOLDE 

Alas!  I  cannot  love  but  once  in  life, 
As  I  can  die  but  once.     Thy  love  for  me 
Was  beautiful  and  tender,  like  the  love 
The  waning  summer  feels  for  its  last  bud; 
When  still  that  bud  can  never  grow  to  seed. 
My  heart  was  gone;  I  could  not  make  response; 
I  would  not  lie  to  thee  more  than  I  did; 
And  so  I  held  myself  aloof  from  thee. 


Act  III  Tristan  ftf  Isolde  73 

KING 

My  love  was  reckoned  naught! 

ISOLDE 

My  heart  had  leaped  the  barriers  of  hate; 
Think  you  'twould  scruple  at  the  bonds  of  love  ? 

TRISTAN 

I  overbore  her  scruples  by  my  sin. 

My  guilty  history  is  brief  to  tell. 

I  slew  her  uncle  Morolt,  but  was  hurt 

By  him  in  turn.     The  festering  wound  grew  worse; 

For  Morolt's  sword  was  poisoned  in  the  blade. 

And  here  I  languished  from  my  deadly  wound, 

Until  I  heard  there  was  one  single  hope, 

Isolde  of  Ireland,  far  famed  for  art 

And  magic  means  to  battle  off  grim  Death. 

She  knew  the  soothing  balsams  that  could  cure 

The  cankered  wound;  for  she  had  stilled  the  drops 

From  midnight  weeds  to  venom  Morolt's  sword, 

So  like  a  snake  it  bit.     And  so  I  went 

To  Ireland  in  disguise,  pale  and  distressed, 

A  wandering  troubadour. 

ISOLDE 

Dreamily. 

He  sang  so  sweet, 

And  looked  so  melancholy  large  in  eye, 
I  pitied  him  in  pain.     He  won  my  love; 
And  since  that  time  has  never  lost  it,  liege. 
It  seemed  his  pain  had  made  his  lay  more  sweet, 
As  I  have  heard  the  nightingale  doth  sing 
Pierced  by  a  thorn;  and  that  God  pains  the  hearts 
Of  poets  most  who  sing  the  sweetest  songs. 
I  nursed  him  through  my  pity  to  my  love. 


74  Tristan  ^f  Isolde  Act  III 

KING 

Would  thou  hadst  died  before  returning  home, 
With  memory  of  thy  deeds  for  monuments, 
To  blazon  forth  thy  chivalry  to  time. 
Where  didst  thou  learn,  Isolde,  that  'twas  he 
Who  slew  thy  uncle  in  the  tournament  ? 

ISOLDE 

'Twas  whispered  in  my  fearful  ears  by  some 
Who  were  with  Morolt  when  he  fell,  that  this 
Same  minstrel  was  the  doer  of  that  deed. 
I  then  remembered  of  the  poisoned  wound. 
None  but  the  venom  I  had  stilled  could  make 
So  festering  a  sore.     It  troubled  me— 

KING 

And  couldst  thou  love  him  after  thou  hadst  learned 
He  was  thine  enemy,  whom  duty  said 
Hate  might  avenge,  but  friendship  never  shield  ? 

ISOLDE 

I  loved  him,  ere  I  knew  he  was  a  foe. 
'Twas  not  without  a  struggle  that  I  loved 
My  country's  enemy.     It  troubled  me, 
And  preyed  like  a  vulture  on  my  guilty  thought. 
My  dreams  were  troublous  and  my  sleep  was  vexed; 
And,  one  wild  night,  when  frenzied  by  a  storm, 
Madly  I  hastened  from  my  couch,  led  on 
By  unavenged  Morolt  from  his  grave. 
I  took  his  battled  sword  and  hastened  off; — 

BRANG^ENA 

I  followed  her  in  fear  for  what  might  hap; 
Yet  feared  to  speak  to  her,  she  looked  so  wild, 
And  muttered  low,  and  moaned  along  the  hall; 
As  if  the  wind,  torn  loose  from  out  the  storm, 
Were  wandering  through  a  cavern.     Treading  soft 
And  stealthily  she  opened  Tristan's  door, — 


Act  III  Tristan  ^f  Isolde  75 

TRISTAN 

Cease,  cease,  thou  meddling  gossip;  leave  thy  tales. 
King  Mark,  I've  told  thee  all  there  is  to  say. 

ISOLDE 

He  knows  not  how  the  fates  have  ordered  this : 
May  heaven  witness  to  the  truth  I  tell. 
I  left  my  couch,  and  opened  Tristan's  door; 
And  there  he  lay,  in  bloom  of  growing  health, 
Lulled  like  a  babe,  asleep  upon  his  arm, 
Swung  in  the  cradle  of  a  lover's  dream. 
The  storm  that  rocked  the  battlements  to  fear 
Sang  him  but  deeper  in  repose.     It  seemed 
He  lisped  some  snatch  of  song  from  far  Provence, 
Of  falling  rivers  and  the  laughing  sea. 
I  swung  my  uncle's  deadly  sword  aloft. 
There  came  a  wandering  smile  to  Tristan's  lips : 
He  called  "Isolde,"  and  murmured  of  his  love. 
The  vision  fled ;  the  sword  fell  from  my  grasp : 
He,  startled  by  the  clang,  woke  up  amazed; 
I  sank  in  sobs  upon  his  breast. 

BRANGJENA 

I  drew  her  gently  by  her  nerveless  hand, 
And  led  her  to  her  chilly  couch  again. 
She  followed  like  a  child,  or  one  in  dream; 
So  madly  overwrought,  she  had  no  will. 
They  knew  they  loved  each  other. 

KING 

Say  you  so, 
You  loved  each  other,  ere  you  came  to  Cornwall  ? 

TRISTAN 

Too  well,  my  liege,  indeed,  and  yet  too  ill. 
I  followed  up  advantages  in  love: 
She  was  a  flower  cloistered  in  the  walls; 


76  Tristan  Sf  Isolde  Act  III 

And  I  was  come,  with  all  the  great  renown 

Of  Arthur's  court  to  plead  in  my  behalf. 

I  loved  her  in  my  dreams;  and  in  the  day 

I  dreamed  again  the  visions  of  the  night. 

And  when  the  avalanche  of  sin  was  loosed, 

My  will  was  weak  and  guilty:  I  preferred 

To  let  myself  be  borne  upon  its  drift, 

Rather  than  stem  its  constant  growing  might. 

What  arts,  what  courtesies,  a  knight  could  use 

Against  unarmed  innocence,  I  used, 

And  thrived  in  her  affection.     I  grew  base, 

Electing  rather  to  be  loved  than  honoured; 

Serving  the  goddess  of  the  easier  rites 

Than  Chastity,  whose  worship  is  restraint, 

And  not  indulgence.     This,  oh  king,  is  but 

The  mildest  name  that  weakness  gives  offense. 

I  sinned  and  dragged  Isolde  down  with  me; 

My  weakness  sapped  her  strength,  and  so  she  fell. 

There  is  no  more  to  say,  no  pleas  to  make, 

No  fears  that  my  guilt  may  be  magnified; 

For  'tis  impossible. 

BRANG^NA 

To  Tristan. 

Be  not  so  rash! 
Thou  wrong' st  Isolde  in  thy  violent  haste. 

To  king. 

Until  this  time  their  love  was  saintly  pure: 
I  never  shall  forget  the  day  it  fell. 

ISOLDE 

I  loved  my  enemy.     Too  soon  there  came 
A  summons  calling  Tristan  to  his  home 
In  far-off  Bretigny;  for  Rual  came 
Deploring  that  his  realm  had  fallen  away. 


Act  III  Tristan  &f  Isolde  77 

KING 

Was  Rual  always  second  in  the  plot? 

I  thought  that  there  was  honesty  itself 

Dressed  out  in  roughness.     Could  he,  too,  play  knave, 

And  hire  himself  to  play  a  part  like  thine  ? 

Ah,  yes, — he,  too,  was  on  the  watch  and  guard, — 

Rual,  Rual — 

TRISTAN 

He  thought  his  master  never  could  do  wrong. 

Tristan  feels  his  wound  and  seems  to  grow 
weaker. 

KING 

To  Brang&na. 

Nor  thou  thy  mistress.  |  Well  wouldst  thou  have  served, 
Hadst  thou  but  been  so'daring  for  their  love, 
When  'twas  an  honourable  love;  not  now, 
Or  since  that  time. 

To  Isolde. 

Why  did  you  not  wed  then  ? 
All  would  have  been  far  happier. 

ISOLDE 

I  could  not; 

For  then  'twas  whispered  loudly  who  he  was, 
This  wandering  minstrel  in  the  castle  walls. 
Fearing  for  him,  I  bade  him  flee  my  home; 
For  Morolt's  friends  meant  ill,  and  'twas  unsafe. 
He  left  with  deep  sworn  vows,  and  promises 
Of  soon  return.     Within  a  meagre  year 
He  came  again  to  Ireland,  to  woo 
His  mistress  for  thy  spouse.     My  father  heard 
With  open  pleasure  all  the  offered  plans: 
Tristan  should  woo  Isolde  for  thy  bride, 
And  Cornwall  join  with  Ireland  in  peace. 


78  Tristan  &  Isolde  Act  in 

Tristan  made  effort  to  forget  his  love: 

My  pride,  touched  to  the  quick  by  his  reserve, 

Soon  poisoned  all  my  love  to  hate  again. 

I  felt  that  I  had  been  betrayed  by  him; 

I  could  not  love  thee,  never  had  seen  thee  yet; 

And  yet  loved  Tristan  though  I  tried  to  hate  him. 

KING 
Why  cam'st  thou,  then;  did  Tristan  bid  thee  come? 

ISOLDE 
He  brought  thy  bidding,  added  none  of  his. 

BRANGJBNA 

'Tis  true.     I  was  at  court  when  Tristan  came, 

And  was  Isolde's  ear  of  confidence. 

Oh  mistress,  let  me  speak,  I  know  the  tale; 

And  have  recited  it  full  many  a  time 

In  restless  nights,  when  fearful  of  thy  fate. 

Isolde  would  not  come  at  first,  my  liege; 

But  then  her  mother  reasoned  with  her  thus : 

That  thou  wert  brave  and  noble,  much  revered 

And  lovable;  and  there  were  duties,  too, 

Which  ought  to  overs  way  the  selfish  choice. 

The  marriage  would  bring  peace  to  all  her  people. 

Further,  the  old  queen  whispered  in  her  ear: 

"Isolde,  here  are  potions  rare  and  strong: 

The  one  for  deadly  wounds  and  injuries; 

The  other  is  a  poison,  that  will  eat 

The  very  roots  of  life,  and  leave  no  trace 

Disfeaturing  the  trunk:  this  canst  thou  use 

To  free  thee  from  the  galling  weight  of  life, 

If  it  become  too  burdensome  to  bear. 

And  last,  most  precious  and  of  all  the  best, 

Here,  in  the  casket,  is  a  phial  of  love, 

A  philter,  culled  from  every  amorous  bud, 


Act  III  Tristan  &P  Isolde  79 

Opened  at  midnight  under  wistful  moons. 
Its  colour  is  the  deep  red  of  the  passion  rose; 
Quaff  this  with  Mark  and  ye  shall  live  and  love." 
These  were  the  last  words  of  the  mother  queen. 

KING 

Is  that  the  way  ye  love  in  Ireland  ? 
A  magic  love  of  potions  drunk  and  swallowed, 
Gulped  at  a  wink;  hearts  in  a  cup  of  wine? 

ISOLDE 

I  made  a  vow  I  would  not  drink  the  draught. 
Since  Tristan  failed  in  proof  of  love,  I  came, 
Half  following  the  finger  of  my  fate; 
Half  in  a  spite  to  show  I  had  no  love. 
My  pride  was  boasting  that  it  had  no  heart, 
When  pride  was  but  the  voice  of  wounded  love. 
We  set  out  on  the  voyage.     Tristan  stood 
E'en  at  the  helm,  at  far  remove  from  us, 
Seeking  a  solace  in  the  rolling  seas; 
His  honour  putting  bars  between  our  hearts 
Which  even  then  ought  have  been  joined  in  love. 
He  never  spoke  to  me  until  we  came 
In  sight  of  Cornwall.     Then  on  nearing  land, — 

KING 

And  were  ye  chaste  until  ye  landed  here; 
And  then  lost  all  your  scruples  at  a  trice, 
To  shelter  guile  beneath  my  loving  wing  ? 

ISOLDE 
What  ails  thee,  Tristan? 

TRISTAN 

My  wound  has  bled  afresh. 

BRANG^ENA 

Isolde  asked  that  Tristan  come  to  her 
Before  they  landed. 


80  Tristan  gf  Isolde  Act  III 

TRISTAN 

I  never  should  have  come; 
And  yet  I  came.     If  ever  thou  hast  loved  me, 
Grant  me  the  boon  of  timely  penitence; 
Be  merciful  to  her  whose  life  I  wrecked, 
And  let  me  die.     My  wound  is  keen,  I  go 
With  nothing  more  to  say;  but  shall  return 
To  hear  my  doom. 

KING 

Nay,  rest  to  hear  it  now. 
We  three  can  never  dwell  beneath  one  roof; 
Tintagel  Castle,  where  king  Uther  died, 
The  mighty  founder  of  a  line  of  kings, 
Is  now  too  small  to  hold  its  three  possessors. 
My  human  pity  never  learned  revenge; 
There  is  no  malice  in  my  punishment. 
The  pillory  of  public  banishment 
Will  not  be  pressed  on  thee;  but  thou  must  go, 
Parting  as  secretly  as  thou  hast  come. 
Thou  art  not  pure  enough  to  seek  the  Grail; 
For  he  who  compasses  that  high  devoir 
Must  guiltless  be,  and  pure  as  virgin  lilies. 
Go,  then,  thy  better  self  will  pray  for  thee; 
Devote  thyself  to  vows  and  blessed  works; 
Until  the  saints,  whose  joy  is  saving  souls, 
Absolve  thy  heart.     I,  too,  in  time,  shall  add 
What  prayers  forgiveness  may  find  tongue  to  speak. 
My  blessings  go  as  wayfarers  with  thee. 
Go,  go ;  I  never  wish  to  see  thy  face  again. 

TRISTAN 

I  thank  thee  for  thy  mercy,  king  and  judge. 
If  I  have  found  thy  clemency,  though  guilty, 
Be  more  than  justly  merciful  to  her 
Whom  I  have  wronged. 


Act  III  Tristan  @f  Isolde  81 

Tristan  bows  to  his  knees,  kisses  the  hem 
of  the  king's  garment,  struggles  to  his  feet 
and,  tottering,  leaves  the  chamber. 

Isolde  hesitates  a  moment,  turns  appealingly 
to  the  king,  and  then,  looking  after  Tris 
tan,  goes  toward  the  door.  She  turns  to  the 
king  again  and  says: 

ISOLDE 

I  follow  him  in  wish, — why  not  in  deed  ? 

The  king  watches  her  in  pained  silence 
withdraw  to  the  threshold;  then  she  returns 
impulsively  and  says: 

'Twere  best  that  all  be  open  now  at  last. 

KING 

What  hast  thou  still  to  say  ?     'Twere  futile  now 
To  leave  the  tale  unfinished  as  it  is. 

ISOLDE 

'Tis  quickly  told.     We  came  in  sight  of  land; 
Brangsena  summoned  Tristan  from  the  helm. 

BRANG^NA 

Thrice  I  was  sent  to  him  and  thrice  refused. 

ISOLDE 
Unwillingly  he  came  to  me  at  last. 

She  pauses. 

BRANG^ENA 

There  glowed  some  dreadful  menace  in  her  eye; 
And  when  Sir  Tristan  came,  she  chided  him 
For  keeping  far  aloof  throughout  the  voyage. 
Tristan  replied  his  honour  bade  him  stay 
Guarding  the  bride,  yet  speaking  not  with  her. 
There  sprang  a  scorned  retort  to  Isolde's  lips: 


82  Tristan  ^f  Isolde  Act  III 

"  Thou  dost  not  think  the  king  has  aught  to  fear 
From  thee?"     He  blushed  and  bowed,  and  answered 

not; 

But  acted  haughtily.     I  saw  the  love 
Struggle  to  his  eyes,  yet  faint  upon  his  tongue. 
He  knew  too  well  that  if  he  showed  his  love, 
Isolde  would  have  never  married  thee. 

KING 

Was  honour  always  in  the  way  of  love, 
Keeping  you  separate  till  thou  wast  a  wife, 
That  lust  might  have  a  freer  license  then  ? 

ISOLDE 

'Tis  a  long  story  both  of  love  and  pride, 
Honour  and  hate,  'gainst  fate  and  destiny. 
The  pride  that  aided  Tristan  in  his  duty, 
Flared  to  a  hate  in  me.     I  told  the  knight 
How  he  had  trifled  with  my  happiness. 
Sir  Tristan  answered  not;  but  love  and  pain 
Sat  in  the  eye  where  pride  and  faith  had  dwelt. 
He  listened,  curbed  like  a  restive,  mettled  steed, 
To  my  rebuke,  without  a  word  to  say. 
I  whispered  hoarsely  in  Brangsena's  ear, 
That  I  would  far  prefer  to  die  with  him 
That  I  once  loved,  than  live  my  days  with  thee. 
Said  hurriedly  my  heart  could  not  be  bartered, 
Bought  thus  and  sold  to  make  a  petty  peace: 
Murmured  I  loved  Sir  Tristan  well  enough 
To  die  with  him  in  love;  yet  hated  him 
Sufficiently  to  make  him  die  with  me. 

BRANGJBNA 

Then  turned  she  with  triumphant  scorn  about, 
Saying  that  she  would  pledge  her  faith  in  wine : 
"One  single  cup  to  bury  hatred  in; 
I  would  no  longer  hate  my  husband's  kin — " 


Act  III  Tristan  &  Isolde  83 

ISOLDE 

And,  pointing  to  the  deadly  phial,  I  said: 
"Brangaena,  pour  this  in  the  chalice  there; 
Say  that  my  honour  could  not  brook  the  sale." 

KING 
Wouldst  thou  have  poisoned  both?     'Twas  desperate! 

BRANG^ENA 

Her  eye  burned  on  the  casket;  then  she  paused. 
I  trembled,  knew  not  what  to  do;  some  power 
Forced  me  to  obey.     To  save  them  both,  I  poured 
The  potent  potion  of  the  amorous  phial. 
I  knew  the  other  would  have  killed  them  both. 

KING 
And  did  you  drink  of  this  ? 

ISOLDE 

We  did,  my  liege. 

Tristan  suspected  that  his  death  was  near, 
And  smiled  at  him  upon  the  chalice  brim. 
He  read  the  meaning  in  my  baleful  glance; 
And  said:  "Oh,  lose  thy  hate,  let's  bury  all." 
So  Tristan  lifted  it  unto  his  lips, 
Drinking  the  goblet  fully  to  the  half. 
I  snatched  the  fateful  cup:  I  saw  the  red, 
The  deep  red  passionate  tint,  looked  wild  at  her, 

Pointing  to  Brang&na. 
Cursed  the  deception,  yet  I  drank  the  dregs. 

KING 
They  drank  the  potion  that  was  meant  for  me! 

BRANG^ENA 

She  never  would  have  drunk  it,  had  she  known 

Ere  Tristan  drained  it,  what  the  chalice  held. 

They  drank  of  death,  yea,  death  to  their  hate  and  vows. 


84  Tristan  ^f  Isolde  Act  III 

His  honour  drowned  in  that  fell  drink;  her  hate 
Expired.     They  fell  into  each  other's  arms; 
The  love  which  they  interred  rose  up  reborn, 
Full  winged,  for  all  eternity. 

KING 

Oh,  strange! 
Oh,  heavy,  heavy,  heavy  grief!     Go  on. 

BRANG^NA 

Isolde  dimly  knew  what  she  had  done. 
She  stood  as  one  in  stupour  waiting  death; 
And  Tristan  knew  not  why  he  burned  again. 
Isolde,  when  she  saw  'twas  life  that  came 
Instead  of  death,  it  seemed  to  her  that  heaven 
Had  merely  stooped  to  earth;  no  common  air 
Was  that  she  breathed. 

ISOLDE 
The  rest  thou  knowest. 

KING 

Alas,  too  well.     When  did  she  learn  the  truth  ? 
This  is  the  very  recklessness  of  love. 

BRANG^NA 

She  did  not  ask  to  know  what  phial  she  drank 

Until  much  later,  on  the  very  day 

That  followed  Tristan's  going  from  thy  court; 

When  they  had  made  their  seeming  last  farewell. 

Perhaps  she  meant  then  to  have  quaffed  with  thee; 

But  then  I  told  her  of  the  circumstance. 

She  smiled  through  all  her  tears,  said  'twas  a  star 

That  beamed  on  Tristan's  soon  return  from  far. 


KING 
Knows  Tristan  aught  of  this  ? 


Act  III  Tristan  ^f  Isolde  85 

ISOLDE 

Nothing,  my  liege. 
I  scorned  to  tell  him  of  the  potion's  power. 

Isolde  withdraws  to  her  exit;   with  a  ges 
ture  of  absolute  despair,  she  says: 

My  heart  is  bleeding  in  Sir  Tristan's  wound 
And  thy  disgrace.     There's  nothing  more  to  say. 
The  tale  is  told.     Farewell.     Mine  was  the  guilt, 
His  was  the  suffering  and  thine  the  shame. 
God  give  thee  grace. 

Exit. 

KING 

Ere  this  did  Isolde  ever  ask  this  drink  for  me  ? 

BRANG^ENA 

I  broached  it  once  on  shipboard,  but  she  said, 

She  never  would  be  medicined  to  love. 

She  had  one  heart  to  give  and  that  was  gone. 

Her  love  was  not  requited;  so  to  fill 

The  empty  aching  space  a  frenzy  grew. 

KING 

My  love  for  them  would  have  thee  innocent; 
That  love  has  asked  belief  from  willing  ears. 
Pray  leave  me  now;  I  am  not  clear  in  mind 
Or  heart  or  purpose;  only  know  this,  madam, 
Whate'er  I  do  will  not  be  in  revenge, 
But  in  forgiveness.     Tristan  must  away; 
The  commons  shall  not  cry  that  he  has  made 
A  cuckold  of  their  king.     I  cannot  go. 
This  place  is  blotted  for  him  till  he  leave. 
Pardon  will  fall  upon  him  like  a  grace 
When  all  his  open  penances  are  done; 
And  he  is  shriven  of  his  magic  fault. 
Then  will  the  people  hail  him  for  their  king, 
Who  now  would  smother  curses  under  breath, 


86  Tristan  ^f  Isolde  Act  III 


And  choke  his  hopes.     Leave  me  now,  and  pray 
That  Melot'  s  sword  was  not  too  deeply  thrust. 
Where's  Melot  ?     Call  my  servant  here.     His  life 
Will  answer  Tristan's  lightest  wound. 

Exit  Brang&na;  reenter,  immediately,  Bran- 
gcena  with  servant. 

Where's  Melot,  sir? 

Sawest  thou  him  leave  the  castle  in  the  night  ? 

SERVANT 
Drunk. 

He  left  no  letter,  no  missive  and  no  purse.  He's  a 
stingy,  blackguardly  caitiff,  is  this  Melot.  He  crossed 
my  toll  path  many  times  and  never  left  a  single  groat 
for  toll.  'Twas  only  Rual  and  the  hunters;  and  they 
may  all  have  back  their  purses  (drawing  them  out  and 
feeling  them).  Oh,  fie!  they're  empty;  I  drank  them 
up,  and  I'll  no  letter-carrying  further.  The  purses 
stuck  my  tongue  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth;  but  since  I 
have  spent  them  I  am  free  to  speak  again.  I'll  no  let 
ter-carrying  further.  I  brought  one  to  Lady  Brangaena, 
and  she  received  it  by  my  word  of  mouth.  Didst 
thou  not,  madam  ?  I  never  thought  thy  ugliness  could 
hold  so  good  a  man  as  Rual  is.  But  they  did  meet, 
and  speak,  my  liege.  Now  deny  it,  lady,  if  thou  canst. 
The  other  letters  were  to  mistress  Isabel.  Oh,  my 
liege,  so  much  hot  love  it  burned  my  hand;  and  I 
opened  the  seal  to  see  what  was  contained  in  it,  —  for  the 
safety  of  the  building.  Love  had  warped  and  twisted 
their  brains.  Insanity  blew  from  out  their  gaping 
words,  like  hot  air  through  a  cracked  furnace  door.  By 
my  soul,  I  couldn't  understand  a  word  of  it;  so  their 
purses  bought  them  nothing,  —  not  even  my  silence,— 
ha,  ha!  How  could  I  speak  of  the  contents,  when  no 
sane  man  could  write  nor  read  nor  utter  them  ? 


Act  III  Tristan  gf  Isolde  87 

KING 

What  letters,  man  ? 

SERVANT 

Two  letters,  my  liege,  by  thy  leave,  for  mistress 
Isabel;  nay,  without  thy  leave,  for  mistress  Isabel. 
For  the  first  I  got  an  added  fee,  for  it  joyed  her  much; 
and  she  did  smile  and  weep  and  droop  with  the  eye; 
but  for  the  second  one  I  brought  her — ough — I  stood 
awhiles  she  read  it,  hoping  for  another  purse  for  pleas 
ant  services — when,  oh  Lord!  I  hear  a  sudden  com 
mand  of  "Out,  you  rascal!"  "Rascal,"  sir,  she  called 
the  message  bearer  to  the  nobility  of  the  realm,  the 
Mercury  of  the  Kingdom.  And  that  foul  slander  was 
the  beginning  of  my  overthrow.  I'll  no  more  on  the 
business.  I  thought  to  have  kept  a  clerk,  but  no 
more,  no  more — 

KING 

Art  thou  drunk,  man  ? 

I  asked  thee  but  if  Melot  left  the  castle. 

SERVANT 

I  am  not  drunk  because  Melot  left  the  castle.  I 
didn't  see  him  leave.  I've  told  your  majesty  he's  a 
tight-fisted,  miserly  caitiff — an  opener  of  doors — 
without  fees.  No  one  ever  yet  got  drunk  when  he 
came  or  when  he  left. 

KING 

Go,  get  thee  gone. 
Thy  wealth  has  stolen  thy  wit.  Exit  servant. 

Brangaena,  see 

That  the  seneschal  procure  this  man's  discharge. 
We  shall  learn  later  of  Lord  Melot's  doings. 
Then  get  thee  to  thy  chamber  and  repose. 
Night  still  is  brooding  o'er  the  darkened  earth; 
And  thou  must  be  well  rested  for  the  morrow, 
Too  big  with  all  our  future  happiness 


88  Tristan  &  Isolde  Act  III 

To  suffer  weak  essays.     Good  night.     Calm  dreams 
Will  wander  through  thy  purged  conscience  now, 
As  angels  wafting  through  the  zones  of  heaven. 
Sir  Tristan's  wound  will  stay  him  till  the  dawn. 

BRANG^ENA 

My  will  is  servant  to  thy  wish;  but  I, 

If  thy  permission  grant  it,  would  have  spoken 

To  Isolde  yet  this  night. 

KING 

I  shall  consult  with  holy  men  till  dawn. 
Send  thou  the  chaplain  to  the  oratory; 
And  bid  him  rouse  no  others  as  he  comes. 
Exit  Brang&na. 
KING 

Oh,  God,  that  I  brought  pain  where  most  I  felt 

A  joy  in  giving  joy.     Why  didst  not  speak, 

Isolde  or  Brangsena,  Tristan,  all  ? 

Ye  might  have  found  in  me  a  willing  friend; 

Who  long  through  ignorance  was  made  a  foe. 

I  should  have  known  it,  seen  that  I  was  old; 

The  mystery  and  magic  of  young  love 

Are  passed  from  me.     Had  I  not  eyes  to  see  ? 

I  often  felt  that  what  Isolde  gave 

Was  only  all  the  heaping  love  I  offered, 

Returned  again  to  me,  with  nothing  more 

Added  by  her.     Oh,  Tristan,  Tristan,  son! 

I  now  forgive  thee  all,  yes,  freely  all. 

Thou  wast  the  heir- apparent  to  my  throne; 

I  loved  thee  not  as  nephew,  but  as  son; 

And  would  have  given  thee  thy  lovely  queen. 

There  is  but  one  allotment  in  our  love. 

Let  future  be  the  health  and  remedy 

For  ills  the  past  inflicts. 

Curtain. 


Act  IV 


A  I  ^HE  throne  chamber  in  Castle  Tintagel.  The 
architecture  is  of  the  same  character  as  that 
JL  of  Act  III.  There  are  two  entrances  from 
the  left,  and  one  entrance  from  the  right.  To  the 
rear  there  is  a  large  portal  opening  on  a  balcony, 
from  which  the  forest  can  be  discerned.  In  the  centre 
of  the  room  there  is  a  large  elevated  dais,  with  two 
throne  chairs.  A  baldachin  extends  over  the  dais.  In 
the  right  foreground  is  a  long,  low  couch  draped  with 
royal  robes.  Next  to  this  there  is  a  console,  upon  which 
is  placed  a  burning  taper. 


Act  IV 

Before  Dawn 

The  curtain  discovers  Tristan  alone,  lying  on  a  low  couch. 
TRISTAN 

Alone  again.     Was  that  a  dizzy  dream 

Of  banishments,  and  partings,  and  of  tortures, 

The  wounds,  the  leech,  Isolde,  and  the  king  ? 

No,  no — too  real,  too  sadly,  coldly,  real — 

My  poor  Isolde,  what  wilt  thou  do  now  ? 

Oh,  sun,  turn  back  again  the  steeds  of  day, 

Be  pliant  to  the  suppliant  prayers  of  men; 

Bring  yester  eve  afresh  upon  the  world; 

Roll  back  the  dragon  chariot  of  night; 

And  take  me  with  thee  far  away  again. 

Thou,  like  the  past,  art  stubborn,  fixed  and  deaf, 

Hard  and  irrevocable.     Oh,  harlot  world, 

Thou  hast  grown  aged  over  night;  and  yet 

Thy  hollow  semblable  appears  the  same. 

I  am  like  thee,  yet  still  I  can  revile 

When  anger  gives  me  words.     Oh,  painted  world! 

Oh,  world,  so  nearly  what  thou  wast  before! 

Our  grief  ought  bid  thee  make  a  greater  change. 

Thy  last  night  struck  thee  sudden  into  age. — 

Why  com'st  thou  now  to  show  thyself  again, 

To  woo  man  forth  to  heavy  heart-sick  joys  ? 

And  must  I  leave  thee,  Isolde,  with  the  day — 

Oaths  broken,  honour  shamed,  the  table  round 

Disgraced  and  sullied  with  unchastity  ? 

Launcelot  and  myself,  twin-starred  in  honour 


92  Tristan  Sf  Isolde  Act  IV 

When  we  rose;  now  joined  in  equal  sin, 

Our  sinking  star  is  falling  into  night, 

And  pales  before  the  gray  of  this  sad  morn. 

Enter  Isolde,  unseen  by  Tristan. 
TRISTAN 

Joy  is  a  bubble  blown  of  vanity, 

That  bursts  when  hands  that  clutch  to  reach  it,  touch 

Its  fragile  shimmering.     It  can  live 

Only  by  being  high  beyond  our  grasp; 

Man  is  the  Tantalus  that  yearns  to  it. 

ISOLDE 

I  have  thee  yet  and  thou  hast  me  again; 
The  bubble  is  not  burst.     Art  thou  in  pain  ? 
When  sleep  lay  nestled  on  thine  eyelids  closed, 
I  left  to  see  the  leech  who  bound  thy  wound; 
He  hath  pronounced  it  trivial  and  slight, 
And  easy  to  be  remedied. 

TRISTAN 
Isolde, 

I  feel  no  pain  in  it  when  thou  art  near; 
But  if  thou  leave  me,  then  it  gnaws  again. 
I  slept  because  I  felt  that  thou  wert  by; 
And  I  awoke  upon  thy  going  hence. 
How  came  we  to  this  royal  chamber,  love  ? 

ISOLDE 
I  led  thy  fainting  footsteps  hitherward. 

TRISTAN 

Looking  at  the  two  throne  chairs. 
This  is  no  place  for  thee  and  me  to  be. 

ISOLDE 

Thy  weakness  pressed  the  choice  of  place  upon  me; 
Here  must  thou  rest  till  daybreak. 


Act  IV  Tristan  ftf  Isolde  93 

TRISTAN 

And  then  leave. 

Isolde,  Isolde,  forgive  the  pain  I  caused; 
I  tried  to  shield  thee  from  entire  guilt; 
Why  didst  thou  speak  of  magic  and  enchantments  ? 
Thou  didst  condemn  thyself. 

ISOLDE 

Did  it  avail 

To  lighten  thine  offence,  it  served  me  well. 
But  know,  oh,  Tristan,  that  I  meant  it  not. 
I  ever  wished  to  love  thee  and  be  loved 
As  a  mere  woman.     What  enchantment  gives, 
It  takes  away  from  me  and  from  my  love: 
I  feel  no  debt  to  any  means  beyond 
The  simple  impulse  of  the  native  heart. 
I  wish  to  love  thee  only  as  my  sex 
Can  love  a  man,  but  deeper;  and  be  loved 
By  thee  as  by  the  noblest  of  thy  sex, 
But  better;  as  more  hopeful  to  be  loved, 
Because  I  loved  thee  too  so  utterly. 

TRISTAN 

And  so  I  love  thee,  and  I  wish  to  love. 
Thy  love  has  been  the  loadstar  of  my  life; 
Then  comes  the  banishment,  and,  like  a  knife, 
Cleaves  our  united  heart  in  twain.     Isolde, 
Dawn  will  come  and  set  his  glowing  torches 
On  the  highest  hills  whose  bases  gloom  the  west; 
And  then  will  light  the  turrets  of  this  keep, 
To  flare  our  shame  out  to  th'  entire  world : 
And  I  must  go. 

ISOLDE 
And  I  shall  follow  thee. 


94  Tristan  ^f  Isolde  Act  IV 

TRISTAN 

My  heart  is  galloping  away  with  thee — 

Isolde,  I  cannot  leave  thee,  yet  I  feel 

I  cannot  drag  thee  forth  to  sneers  and  shame. 

ISOLDE 
The  shame  is  equal  if  I  go  or  stay. 

TRISTAN 

King  Mark's  full  clemency  will  never  fail; 
He  is  a  tree  that,  wounded,  yields  a  balm, 
Which  like  a  benediction  pities  all. 

ISOLDE 
Could  Christ's  own  pity  fill  me  like  thy  love  ? 

TRISTAN 

I  am  a  sorrow-doomed  man,  a  child 
Of  sorrow  born,  to  sorrow  dedicate. 

ISOLDE 

There  is  no  joy  for  me  where  thou  art  not; 
With  thee  all  suffering  is  sublimed  to  bliss. 

TRISTAN 

The  king,  my  foster  father  and  my  friend! 
I  have  the  sin  and  have  his  blessings  too; 
And  later  come  his  prayers  for  me.     Isolde, 
I've  stolen  away  his  love;  and  can  we  hope 
For  God's  or  his  forgiveness,  when  we  keep 
The  proceeds  of  my  theft,  which  penitence 
Ought  rather  render  up  again  to  him, 
Than  selfishness  retain  ? 

ISOLDE 

Render  me  up! 

As  though  my  love  were  a  commodity  ? 
I  never  found  thee  selfish  until  now. 


Act  IV  Tristan  Sf  Isolde  95 

Think  once  of  me.     How  can  I  linger  here — 
And  yet  my  pride  ought  never  ask  this  of  thee — 
How  can  I  ever  live  apart  from  thee  ? 
We  would  have  fled  together  ere  this  dawn, 
Had  Mark  not  come  between  to  sever  us. 
Why  halt  we  now  and  tremble  at  the  flight  ? 

TRISTAN 

I  cannot  build  my  paradise  upon 
The  scattered  wrecks  of  others'  happiness. 
If  I  were  dead  thou  mightest  yet  be  saved. 

ISOLDE 
But,  while  thou  livest,  I  will  share  thy  guilt. 

TRISTAN 

Aside. 
"But,  while  thou  livest,  I  will  share  thy  guilt." 

To  Isolde. 

And  canst  thou  love  me  muddied  as  I  am 
With  foul  disgrace  and  open  obloquy  ? 

ISOLDE 

And  I — am  I  not  muddied  too  ? 
Yet  thou  hast  said  thou  lov'st  me  none  the  less; 
There's  nothing  more  to  lose  but  life  itself. 
Death  stands  before  me,  like  a  huge  Colossus, 
One  foot  upon  the  hopes,  the  other  pressed 
Upon  the  wailing  fears  of  men;  and  time 
Flows  with  a  sluggard  stream  of  days  below 
To  dark  eternities. 

TRISTAN 
But  leave  me  now. 

ISOLDE 

I'll  share  thy  exile  with  thee;  let  me  go. 
Thou  art  my  rescue,  my  deliverance: 

7 


96  Tristan  ^f  Isolde  Act  IV 

I  shall  not  leave  thee  till  thou  promise  me 
That  I  may  go. 

TRISTAN 

Isolde,  torture  me  not, 
I  leave  thee  with  a  deathless,  timeless  kiss. 
I  shall  be  true  to  thee  forever — go. 
I  hear  a  stir  upon  the  threshold! 

Slight  noise. 

Farewell — thou  shouldst  not  be  discovered  here. 
God  will  resolve  it  all — a  last  farewell — 
If  ever  thou  hast  loved  me,  leave  me  now. 

Kisses  her,  and  presses  her  through  the 
door. 

TRISTAN 

"There's  nothing  more  to  lose  but  life  itself." 

My  hopes  for  thee  and  prayers  for  thy  soul, 

Beyond  the  perils  of  this  life's  last  throe, 

Beyond  the  wild  regret  of  earthly  sin, 

Will  nerve  me  to  my  death.     I  love  thee,  Isolde, 

With  such  a  love  as  gives  up  all  on  earth 

In  barter  for  the  joy  in  lives  to  come. 

I  will  not  wreck  thee  more  than  I  have  done; 

And  dash  thy  chance  of  bliss  beyond  the  grave. 

I  look  upon  thee  as  a  mariner, 

With  sail  struck  for  the  sea,  and  swelling  winds 

To  scud  him  wildly  from  the  sinking  shore; 

Who  sees  gray  distance  widening  as  he  looks;— 

And  never  will  return. 

Enter  Melot.  Tristan  falls  on  his  knee  be 
fore  Melot,  who  is  in  the  disguise  of  a 
wandering  friar. 

TRISTAN 

Clasping  the  hem  of  Melot' s  garment. 
Thou  art  a  holy  man  and  welcome  here, 


Act  IV  Tristan  &  Isolde  97 

Where  those  of  orders  always  are  received 

Hospitably  by  him  who  rules  this  land. 

Thou  comest  pure  from  vigils  of  the  night; 

Thy  prayers  have  brought  thee  very  near  to  God; 

So  let  me  kneel  to  thee.     Oh,  shrive  me, 

Holy  father;  give  thy  blessings  now; 

Unload  thy  soul  of  all  its  saintliest  goods; 

Thou  couldst  forever  further  onward  go, 

And  never  find  a  man  who  needs  them  more. 

Melot  turns  away. 

Is  there  a  sin  contagious  to  the  touch  ? 

Oh,  leave  me  not  without  thy  prayers  for  me. 

Direct  a  sinner's  footsteps  to  his  God; 

And  God  will  bless  thee  even  though  thou  fail. 

Tristan  looks  up,  and  examines  Melot  more 
closely. 

Thou  wear'st  a  crucifix  stuck  in  thy  belt 
As  if  it  were  a  sword! 

Dagger  in  hand! 

Then  rising  suddenly,  he  strikes  off  Melot' s 
cowl. 

Melot!! 

MELOT 

I  am  he.     Thou  and  thy  paramour 
Have  thus  undone  me;  but  I  am  not  gone. 
I  leave  my  traces  when  I  go.     I  came 
To  see  thee  here  alone. 

TRISTAN 

Most  welcome,  Melot. 
Thou  com'st  to  me  as  fate  made  visible; 
I  do  not  fear  thee. 


98  Tristan  ftf  Isolde  Act  IV 

MELOT 

Thou  hast  escaped  me  once, 
When  I  had  less  a  cause  to  hate  thee;  now, 
My  banishment  is  added  to  thy  score; 
And  I  am  here  to  wreak  my  whole  account. 

TRISTAN 

People  have  said  thou  wast  mine  enemy, 
Nursing  against  my  life  a  constant  hate, 
Sharpened  with  all  the  pangs  of  jealousy. 
I  look  upon  thee  now  as  on  a  friend. 
My  life  has  been  a  sad  accomplishment; 
Come,  free  from  the  long  years  of  regret: 
Thou  dost  a  charity  and  not  a  crime. 
Thy  first  attempt  was  but  a  schoolboy  thrust. 
Thou'rt  grown  as  old  as  I  am  in  disgrace, 
We  both  are  equals  now  and  banished: 
So  strike  me  deep:  search  thou  the  bursting  heart 
Where  I  have  treasured  all  Isolde's  love, 
And  kill  us  both  upon  a  single  blow. 
Strike  deep,  and  I  shall  think  thine  emulous  hate 
Is  kindness  turned  a  little  from  its  path. 

MELOT 

I  came  not  here  to  bandy  words  with  thee : 
Thou  ever  hadst  a  poet's  silken  speech, 
Gilded  and  adulterate  to  seduce 
Successfully. 

TRISTAN 

Melot,  wilt  thou  not  strike! 
Oh,  have  no  fears  for  empty  Tristan  now. 
Thou  seest  me  here,  dishonoured  and  unarmed, 
My  prowess  gone,  my  valiancy  rebuked, 
Too  cowardly  to  face  my  life  again, 
And  yet  too  cowardly  to  take  my  life. 


Act  IV  Tristan  S§f  Isolde 


99 

See,  see,  I  offer  thee  my  bosom  bare, 
Prepared  for  thy  best  stroke;  be  merciful 
And  make  a  swift  dispatch. 

MELOT 
Dost  think  that  I  would  favour  where  I  hate  ? 

TRISTAN 

Art  thou  turned  coward  too  ?     When  I  was  armed, 
No  hesitation  locked  thy  scabbard — oh, 
Thou  art  a  fighter  when  the  king  is  near; 
His  presence  is  thy  courage;  his  applause 
Thy  highest  valour.     An  unarmed,  wounded  man, 
Brave  in  despair,  outbraves  the  armed  coward. 
Laughs. 

MELOT 

Hush,  fool,  thou  art  a  flesh  to  feed  my  knife, 
Made  hungry  by  its  taste  of  carrion  blood. 
Good  fortune  raised  thee  up  above  my  head; 
Ambition  made  me  equal;  banishment 
Lowers  again  my  hopes  to  thy  despair. 
That  shrew  Isolde,  she,  thine  Irish  bitch, 
Whelped  in  a  famine  time  of  sorcery, 
Hath  wrought  this  havoc. 

TRISTAN 

Thou  hound,  thou  fiend  of  hell, 
Thou  darest  not  mention  such  an  holy  name, 
'Twould  win  for  thee  admittance  into  heaven: 
Hell's  jaws  are  gaping  for  thee,  damned  curse! 

Tristan  makes  wild  gestures  for  a  sword, 
forgetting  that  the  king  has  disarmed  him 
in  dishonour, 

Oh,  for  a  sword — a  weapon — oh,  for  a  sword— 

MELOT 
Laughing. 
The  harlot  could  not  thrive  so  well  at  home 


100  Tristan  &  Isolde  Act  IV 

Among  her  kind;  and  so  they  sent  her  out 
A  scourge  upon  her  foes. 

TRISTAN 

Blaspheming  dog, 
I'll  choke  thee  for  that  speecn. 

Tristan,  though  unarmed,  makes  for  Melot. 
A  fierce  struggle  ensues.  Melot  stabs  Tris 
tan  with  a  dagger. 

TRISTAN 

Oh,  I  am  slain — 

MELOT 

The  air  is  freer  now. 

Melot  drags  Tristan  up  to  king's  throne 
chair. 

MELOT 

I'll  throne  thee  in  thy  death.     Thou  hast  aspired, 

Turning  all  means  to  steps  up  to  this  seat. 

Thou  hast  bewitched  the  general  tongue  of  praise. 

Isolde  would  have  had  thee  secretly 

The  sharer  of  her  sway;  the  foolish  Mark 

Appointed  thee  to  be  his  sceptre's  son; 

But  Melot  made  thee  king,  and  gave  thee  a  throne! 

Now  mock  thy  station  with  thy  pallid  corpse. 

Throwing  one  of  the  royal  robes  from  the 
dais  upon  him. 

I'll  have  thee  habited  as  is  a  king. 

Thou'rt  pale  and  anxious  with  new-gotten  power; 

And  newborn  honour  weighs  thee  pitifully. 

Isolde  should  be  here  to  fill  her  seat; 

And  Cornwall  would  rejoice  to  see  his  death, 

So  well  anticipated. 

Exit  Melot  to  the  right. 

Enter  Rual  from  the  left. 


Act  IV  Tristan  {§f  Isolde  101 

RTJAL 

The  king  has  told  me  Tristan  should  be  here. 

Oh,  master — sit  not  in  the  kingly  throne! 

Wake,  wake,  the  day  is  gray  upon  the  eastern  clouds — 

The  ban  begins  at  dawn.     The  king's  at  mass. 

I  begged  thy  sword  from  him  before  he  left: 

He  sends  it  back  to  thee,  yet  must  thou  go 

Immediately  upon  a  pilgrimage, 

To  visit  shrines  and  pray  for  absolution; 

For  so  the  holy  man  has  well  advised. 

But  as  I  came,  hoarse-whispered  treachery 

Seemed  creeping  through  the  echoing  castle  walls — 

Melot  has  minions  that  will  serve  his  will — 

Thou  hearest  me,  master, — thou  must  haste  away — 

Why  starest  thou  so  stonily!  'tis  Rual — 

Plucking  the  robe  off. 
Blood  and  new  wounds!     Oh,  treason!  hadst  thou  no 

arms  ? 

He's  yet  alive— Help !     Help ! 
I  know  the  only  man  that  could  have  aimed 
This  undefended  blow;  I  know  the  man! 
Help— help! 

Enter  Isolde  and  Brangana  from  different 

sides. 

BRANG^ENA 

Help— help!     Who  did  this  hellish  deed ? 

RUAL 

Melot.     No  other  sword  thrusts  in  the  dark 
Against  defenceless  valour. 
Here  is  Tristan's  sword,  fruitless  and  bootless, 
Useless,  come  too  late. 

ISOLDE 

Tristan,  oh,  wake,  'tis  thine  Isolde  calls; 
Take  me  with  thee  in  death,  I  promised  so. 


102  Tristan  §P  Isolde  Act  IV 


I'll  journey  with  thee  whither  thou  wilt  go; 
But  wake  and  bid  me  come.     Smile  only  once 
Before  thy  death,  and  I  shall  follow  thee. 

Isolde  seizes  sword  and  would  have  made 
away  with  herself,  but  Brang&na  restrains 
her. 

BRANG^ENA 

He  lives,  Isolde. 

Isolde  swoons  over  Tristan's  body. 

BRANG^NA 

Good  Rual,  speed  thee  hence  to  embark  with  Tristan; 
Take  him  away  —  take  him  away  — 
For  secret  murder  has  a  million  arms; 
And  weakness  is  as  trustful  as  a  lamb 
That  licks  the  slaughter  knife. 

RUAL 

I'll  bear  him  off 

As  soon  as  I  have  staunched  his  wound. 
The  king  this  morning  summoned  me  to  him, 
And  gave  me  back  my  master's  sword  again, 
Which  he  had  ta'en  away,  too  late  returned. 

BRANG^ENA 

Some  one  will  help  thee  bear  him  to  the  strand. 
If  God  be  willing,  ye  may  leave  ere  noon. 
And  thou,  Isolde,  waken  from  thy  swoon; 
And  yet  I  would  not  waken  thee  to  grief; 
Faint  into  sleep,  Isolde. 

Now  the  day 

Peeps  with  his  garish,  staring  eye  about; 
And  things  grow  desolately  clear  again: 
The  kindly  veil  of  night  is  rent;  no  shadow, 
Merciful  to  shield  thee,  lurks  behind. 

Sound  of  horns:  Brang&na  runs  to  bal 

cony. 


Act  IV  Tristan  {%f  Isolde  103 

The  hunters  straggle  from  the  wearied  chase 
Homeward  through  the  forest. 

ISOLDE 
Half  in  swoon. 

The  horns,  the  horns! 
I  hear  a  horn,  the  trumpet  to  our  doom. 
Flee,  Tristan,  flee — I  hear  the  horns  again — 
Haste  onward,  onward,  let  me  ride  with  thee; 
Thou  must  not  leave  me. 

BRANG^ENA 

Hush,  hush,  Isolde. 

Enter  Gervaine. 
GERVAINE 

We  lost  his  majesty  upon  the  hunt; 
Has  he  arrived  ? 

BRANG^ENA 

King  Mark  is  safe  at  home, 
And  he  commands  the  privacy  of  his  room. 

All  the  time  shielding  Isolde  and  Tristan. 
GERVAINE 

We  missed  him  in  the  heat  and  broil  of  chase; 
And  wandered  through  the  by-paths  of  the  woods. 
Fearing  he'd  fallen  or  had  met  mishap. 
And  then,  upon  the  homeward  way  this  morn, 
We  met  his  charger  riderless  and  loose, 
Treading  the  trail  to  find  his  master  lost. 

BRANG^ENA 

The  king  is  safe  and  well,  adieu. 

GERVAINE 

God  be  with  thee.     Where  is  Isabel  ? 
What!     Tristan! 


104  Tristan  £|f  Isolde  Act  IV 

BRANG^ENA 

Thy  lady  bides  within; 
Go  thou  and  summon  her. 

Exit  Gervaine. 

'Tis  Isabel's  beloved;  he  has  seen  them, 
And  knows  no  doubt  the  whole  sad  history. 
Enter  Isabel  and  Gervaine. 
ISABEL 

Oh,  lady,  lady,  what  has  happed  again  ? 
Gervaine,  remain  here,  leave  me  not — my  queen — 

BRANG^NA 
To  Isabel. 

Thou  canst  yet  serve  thy  queen  through  thy  beloved. 
Aid  me  in  this;  and  let  thy  sanctioning  love 
Be  minister  unto  our  mutual  fates. 

To  Gervaine. 

Hold,  huntsman,  thou  dost  know  the  readiest  roads 
That  shorten  to  the  sea;  'tis  but  a  pace; 
Wilt  thou  give  hand  to  aid  this  wounded  knight, 
And  carry  him  aboard  ?     I  shall  requite  thee. 
Fear  not;  all  is  right. 

GERVAINE 

Tristan,  wounded! 

And  art  thou  Rual  ?     What  a  bloody  deed 
Is  this! 

RUAL 

Give  help,  this  is  no  time  for  gaping  wonder. 

BRANG^ENA 

Thy  queen  bids  thee  make  haste. 

ISABEL 

Deserve  my  love  by  some  such  deed  as  this; 
And  I  am  thine.     Isolde  is  my  queen; 


Act  IV  Tristan  figf  Isolde  105 

I  rise  or  fall  with  her;  go,  we  shall  meet. 
But  tarry  not,  know  I  am  thine  alone; 
And  do  this  service  here  for  love  of  me. 

GERVAINE 

Thy  lightest  wishes  are  my  decalogue: 
I  shall  deserve  thy  love. 

Rual  and  Gervaine  carry  Tristan  off.  Isolde 

is  arousedf  and  cries  out. 

Curtain. 


Act  V 


THE  approach  to  Lionel's  castle  on  the  coast  of 
Cornwall.     To  the  right    is  the    spacious   en 
trance  to  the  barbacan,  and  exterior  walls  and 
battlements.     In  the  rear  is  the  large  stretching  view 
of   the  open  sea.     The  path  from  the  castle  gate  ex 
tends  across  the  stage  to  the  left,  and  disappears  in  the 
low  trees  and  shrubbery.     There  is  a  low  mound  of 
turf  in  centre  foreground. 

The  distant  melancholy  call  of  the  sea  is  heard  con 
stantly  during  the  progress  of  this  Act. 


Act  V 

Twilight  of  the  Next  Day 

Enter  Rual  and  Gervaine  from  left,  carrying  Tristan. 
RUAL 

So,  lift  him  gently,  Gervaine. 

There  is  some  hope;  the  wound  has  ceased  to  bleed, 

This  is  Sir  Lionel's  castle;  we  must  rest. 

Go  thou  and  ask  him  for  his  willingness 

To  shelter  Tristan;  till  his  further  strength 

Enable  further  going. 

GERVAINE 

I  shall  announce 
Our  coming. 

RUAL 

Importune  him;  take  no  refusal 
Even  from  his  most  reluctant  fears. 

GERVAINE 

He  was  a  loyal  friend  of  Tristan, 

And  will  not  fail  him  now,  I  hope;  though  oft 

Calamity  has  turned  a  life-old  friend 

Quick  into  a  new  enemy.     We  know 

That  Time  and  Fate  were  ever  alchemists, 

Turning  the  old  to  new,  and  new  to  old, 

By  new  events  cast  in  the  crucible; 

And  few  can  stand  the  constant  test  and  be 

Unchanged. 


110  Tristan  {§f  Isolde  Act  V 

RUAL 

Words  well  said,  but  breath  ill  spent.     My  friend, 
Be  this  another  test,  and  fail  me  not; 
Thou  hast  been  strain-proof  up  till  now. 

GERVAINE 

I  go. 

Exit. 

RUAL 

Were  Melot's  throat  once  firm  within  this  hand, 

I'd  make  him  loll  his  treasonous  tongue  about 

Without  the  breath  to  feed  it  into  words. 

Oh,  what  a  blow!     Struck  without  defence; 

Unknightly  sped  with  desperate  success; 

Malice  and  vengeance,  jealousy  and  hate 

All  giving  strength  against  this  noble  breast, 

Wounded  and  weak.     But  God,  oh,  generous  God, 

Give  me  this  wretch  within  my  sword's  wide  circle; 

Let  him  be  armed  proof  'gainst  thunderbolts, 

I  yet  will  cleave  him  down.     How  many  men 

Better  than  Melot  have  been  thrown  to  earth 

Unhorsed,  chagrined,  yet  noble  in  defeat! 

Ought  Melot  thus  in  basest  cowardice 

Escape  ?     He's  banished,  for  he  cannot  clear 

His  guilty  soul  of  what  the  king  has  charged. 

To  seek  his  death  will  be  my  pilgrimage: 

I'll  hunt  his  fleeing  shadow  all  the  life 

That  will  be  left,  if  Tristan  be  restored. 

Ye  saintly  ones  in  heaven,  pray  for  him; 

Be  not  so  jealous  of  the  earth's  last  knight, 

To  steal  our  star  and  leave  us  in  the  dark. 

My  tongue  has  never  caught  the  trick  of  prayer; 

But,  God,  spare  Tristan;  let  his  wound  be  healed. 

He  breathes  so  lightly  that  the  air  scarce  moves, 

It  loves  to  hover  o'er  those  parted  lips; 

But  yet  so  pale — 


Act  V  Tristan  df  Isolde  111 

Enter  Gervaine. 
GERVAINE 

Rual,  Sir  Lionel 
Hath  said: — 

RUAL 

'Tis  well  and  'tis  indifferent  to  me. 
He  could  not  see  him  thus  and  then  refuse; 
We  must  rest  here,  no  matter  what  he  said. 
We  cannot  bring  him  farther.     Many  thanks 
For  thy  kind  service  to  my  dying  lord. 

GERVAINE 

I  have  told  him  what  has  happed.     Good  Lionel, 
The  owner  of  this  castle,  bids  me  say 
That  he  will  take  upon  himself  the  brunt 
Of  braving  the  king's  anger,  should  it  fall 
On  him  for  offering  a  refuge  to  the  knight. 
He  is  an  enemy  to  Melot,  sworn  of  old. 
But  see,  he  comes.     I'll  take  me  hence. 
Enter  Lionel. 
RUAL 

Stay,  thou  mayest  be  of  service  yet,  my  friend; 
'Twill  be  an  honour  to  have  served  in  this. 
Thy  duties  have  deserved  still  higher  trust. 

GERVAINE 

I'll  back  along  the  road  again.     'Twas  said, 

Before  we  left,  that  some  would  after  us 

Attempt  the  road.     We  swerved  from  off  the  highway, 

Coming  here.     I'll  post  a  messenger 

To  announce  where  we  are  come. 

LIONEL 

So  go; 
Let  there  be  no  more  secrecy  in  this. 

Exit  Gervaine. 
8 


Tristan  &  Isolde  Act  V 

Then  thou  art  Rual.     Is  this  Tristan  here, 

Humbled  in  pain  by  such  a  treasonous  sword  ? 

Melot  long  hated  him;  he  always  feared 

For  Tristan's  influence  with  the  loyal  king. 

His  envious  ambition  saw  in  him 

A  step  up  to  the  throne  on  which  it  fell; 

And  so  he  sought  to  crumble  it  away. 

He  breathed  foul  perjuries  against  the  knight, 

Before  he  found  the  deeds  that  could  support  them. 

Lord  Tristan  was  beloved  of  us  all. 

Raising  his  voice. 

I'll  brand  this  Melot  in  the  tourney  lists 
Foul  mouthed  and  slanderous. 

RUAL 

Soft,  Lionel;  he  moves. 

TRISTAN 

Isolde,  thou  must  flee  with  me; 

Deliriously. 

I  die,  if  thou  come  not  or  stay  too  long. 
Sing  once  again  the  song  I  taught  to  thee 
Far  off  in  Ireland. 

RUAL 

She's  here,  my  lord; 
Have  but  a  little  patience. 

TRISTAN 

Rual  here! 

What  dost  thou  here  ?     Hast  thou  forsook  thy  watch  ? 
Stay  in  the  barbican!     Isolde,  love, 
Thou'rt  long  in  getting  ready  for  thy  flight. 
'Tis  growing  light,  I  smell  the  freshened  dews; 
And  we  must  speed  ere  dawn. 
Oh,  haste  thee, — come,  come,  come,  come. 
It  seems  I  faint  in  expectation,  love; 
And  all  the  world  grows  dim  again  and  dark. 


Act  V  Tristan  &P  Isolde  113 

LIONEL 

What  mystery  is  this  discovered  here  ? 

RUAL 

His  memory  has  lost  its  dizzy  way; 
And  wanders  blinded  and  without  a  guide, 
Through  labyrinths  of  a  half  forgotten  past. 

TRISTAN 

I  hear  the  sea;  I  see  the  sea,  Isolde; 
And  thy  dark  eyes  o'erbrimming  like  the  sun, 
Some  dark  red  fluid  at  my  glowing  lips, 
That  trembles  in  my  veins  and  arteries, 
Like  the  tumultuous  sea.     I  drown,  I  drown; 
And  yet  I  hate  the  land,  the  cursed  land— 

RUAL 
She  soon  will  come,  brave  Tristan,  never  fear. 

TRISTAN 

Oh,  how  it  rocks  and  storms! 
List  to  the  wind  shriek;  all  is  dark. 
My  fingers  fall  on  some  familiar  lute; 
I  sing  to  thee,  yet  dost  thou  never  come. 

Enter  Gervaine  with  Isolde,   who   kneels 
over  Tristan. 

ISOLDE 

He  lives — 

GERVAINE 

I  found  her  wandering  like  a  stricken  fawn, 
As  blindly  in  the  day  as  if  'twere  night, 
Lost  in  the  tangled  woods. 

Enter  Isabel  and  guide  hurriedly. 

ISABEL 

The  queen  is  here.     She  mumbled  eerie  charms 
Of  night  and  day,  and  chanted  to  the  moon, 


114  Tristan  Sf  Isolde  Act  V 

That  died  and  faded  and  could  not  be  seen; 
And  then  we  lost  her;  for  she  slipped  away 
While  we  were  resting. 

GEBVAINE 

I  longed  for  thee  to  come. 

LIONEL 

It  nears  the  end,  I  fear;  he  wanders  far; 
And  yet  the  king  should  come,  if  but  to  ease 
His  soul's  last  flight  with  his  forgiveness. 

Rual, 
Wilt  thou  go,  or  shall  I  go  myself  ? 

RUAL 

Not  I. 

Go  thou  the  byways;  Gervaine  took  the  road, 
And  did  not  see  them.     I  must  stay  by  Tristan; 
My  place  is  by  his  side. 

ISOLDE 
Tristan,  'tis  I;  'tis  thy  Isolde  here. 

TRISTAN 

Deliriously. 

Here  hast  thou  wounded  me.     Isolde,  speak. 
I  saw  thee  in  my  dream  open  my  door; 
I  heard  melodious  mutterings  at  my  bed. 
Here  hast  thou  wounded  me,  alas,  too  deep. 
Why  that  false,  treacherous  blow  ? 
I  saw  the  sword  gleam  through  the  murk  of  night, 
Like  lightning  in  the  clouds. 

Wakes  slightly. 

Where  is  thy  sword  ?     Ah,  all  is  calm  again ! 
I  hear  no  noise;  I  feel  thy  breast  on  me 
Heave  like  the  sea  turned  warm  in  clinging  foam. 

Vesper  sounded. 
But  all  grows  dark  and  clear.     Soft,  soft,  I  hear 


Act  V  Tristan  Sf  Isolde  115 

The  day  rings  out  its  knell  again— 
Oh,  happy,  happy,  happy  knell!     Tis  I — 
Thy  Tristan,  come  again — 
Isolde,  all  is  dark  and  Rual  waits. 
'Twas  long — 'twas  long — long — long — 

Faints. 

Isolde  embraces  him  passionately. 

Enter  king  and  Brangcena,  led  by  Lionel. 

ISOLDE 

Speak  once  again:  'tis  I  am  here; 

Thine  ever  own  Isolde.     Speak,  oh,  speak. 

TRISTAN 

I  never  loved  thee,  Iseult. 
Spurn,  if  thou  wilt;  I  have  dishonoured  love 
In  thee  and  her.     Another  has  my  heart. 
My  vows  were  treacherous  breath. 
Isolde  stabbed  me  with  her  barbed  scorn; 
The  wound  is  here — here — 

ISOLDE 

Tristan,  awake;  I  hang  upon  thy  lips. 
Thou  dreamest  not;  'tis  I,  Isolde,  speaks. 
I  gave  up  all  for  thy  much  richer  love; 
I've  followed  thee — oh,  cast  me  not  away 
With  wild  and  wandering  words. 

TRISTAN 
Rising. 

Isolde,  is  it  thou! 

Come  let  us  fly,  we're  off,  the  time  is  friend. 
It  seems  to  grow  forever  darker;  and  no  sun 
Will  burst  his  hateful  face  upon  our  joys. 
Hast  thou,  enchantress,  such  a  potent  charm 
To  bring  on  chaos  once  again  ? 


116  Tristan  Sf  Isolde  Act  V 

Our  love  shall  be  an  Eros  in  the  void. 

Oh,  it  is  dark,  so  wondrous,  wondrous  dark; 

'Twill  be  eternal  night  again: 

No  day — and  we  shall  never  part. 

Our  love  is  like  a  death,  eternal 

As  the  doom — 

Dies. 

KING 

Oh,  God!     Too  soon  for  my  forgiveness. 
Sir  Lionel,  scour  the  road  for  Melot's  trail; 
His  ship  is  riding  in  the  harbour  now. 

Exit  Lionel. 

To  Tristan  and  Isolde. 

I  loved  ye  both,  and  grieve  for  both  again, 
In  that  ye  were  unfortunate  in  your  loves; 
And  I  unwittingly  did  cause  you  woe. 
Oh,  God!  with  what  coercive  blinding  fate 
Didst  thou  oppress  this  bud  of  knightly  honour 
Expanding  in  our  favouring  light,  to  blast 
And  wither  it  like  a  common  sprouting  weed, 
Gendered  in  the  world's  rank  desert  places. 
And  as  for  thee,  thou  mage,  enchantress  fair, 
Some  mystery  did  shield  thy  heart  from  me; 
I  barely  knew  thee,  yet  I  loved  thee  too : 
Thou  seem'dst  elemental  as  a  sprite. 

Lionel  within.    Sounds  of  a  struggle. 
LIONEL, 

Resist  no  longer,  I  have  found  thee  out. 
Thou  pestilence  in  penitential  garb! 
Rual — Rual — one  whom  thou  wouldst  seek, 
And  give  thy  life  to  find. 

Drags  on  Melot  in  monk's  garb. 


Act  V  Tristan  £kf  Isolde  117 

RUAL 

Not  seeing  Melot. 

'Tis  all  over; 

What  flickering  life  is  left  for  me  to  live, 
Will  purchase  naught. 

Seeing  him. 

What!    Melot! 

LIONEL 

I  found  him  slinking  toward  the  nearest  coast, 
Too  eager  in  his  pace  for  his  profession; 
And  so  I  questioned  him. 

RUAL 

Good  king,  let  me 
Be  judge  and  executioner — 

Draws  sword  and  makes  for  Melot. 
KING 

Hold! 

RUAL 

Or  when  'tis  done,  as  'twill  be  shortly  done, 
I  care  not  then  if  thou  be  both  for  me. 

To  Melot. 

Thou  stain  upon  the  scroll  of  chivalry, 

Thou  wrinkled  sneer  of  malice,  die, — thou  leer 

Of  hateful  guile,  I'll  blot  thee  out. 

And  then  will  earn  my  death  by  thine;  for  then 

I  shall  deserve  to  die.     Thy  presence  here 

Alive  unsanctifies  the  place:  thou  dead, 

The  uses  of  my  further  life  are  none; 

For  they  were  sworn  to  serve  thy  death  alone. 

KING 
Hold,  Rual!     Art  thou  Melot  in  that  guise? 


118  Tristan  @f  Isolde  Act  V 

MELOT 

I  am,  my  liege.     Give  me  a  sword  to  fight; 
And  I  will  cut  this  varlet's  bursting  breast, 
And  ease  his  throat. 

BUAL 

Here,  take  my  sword; 

'Twere  butchery  else,  though  thou  deserv'st  no  more. 
Yet  Tristan  would  have  scorned  to  kill  thee  thus 
Unarmed. 

Melot  takes  sword. 

Good, — if  thou  slayest  me, 

'Twill  seem  as  if  I  fell  upon  my  own  sword's  point, 
Not  thine.     I  know  no  better  place  to  die; 
And  if  I  die,  I'll  never  need  a  sword. 
But  if  thou  diest,  bury  it  as  a  cross; 
'Twas  worn  by  one  that  led  a  knightly  life. 

MELOT 

Exceeding  knightly,  as  we  learned  last  night. 

RUAL 

Taking  Tristan's  sword. 

My  lord,  thy  sword  will  be  dishonoured  now; 
But  I  will  try  to  wield  it  well. 

Some  one  offers  him  a  shield,  for  Melot  has 
visible  armour  beneath  his  gown. 

Stand  off!     Make  way! 
I'll  have  no  shield  but  my  own  valour  now, 
And  Tristan's  name.     Oh,  Tristan,  be  yet  near; 
Hover  a  moment  ere  thou  fly  to  heaven; 
And  let  thy  vengeance  speak  through  my  right  arm. 
Flash  with  the  gleam  of  lightning  on  my  sword; 
Strike  lurid  terror  in  this  false  black  heart. 
They  fight,  and  Melot  is  killed. 


Act  V  Tristan  &f  Isolde  119 

RUAL 

To  Tristan's  body. 

This  is  my  offering  to  thy  memory; 
And  now  my  life  is  done. 

To  king. 

My  liege,  thine  utmost 
Can  add  no  chapter  to  the  book  complete. 

Rual  drops  on  his  knee. 
I  sink  for  thy  rebuke;  I've  disobeyed; 
I've  killed  Lord  Melot. 

KING 

Thou  art  the  same  old  Rual. 
Nay,  do  not  kneel  to  me  for  pardon,  sir; 
But  ask  my  generous  thanks.     Thou  servedst  well 
Him  whom  I  did  my  best  to  serve;  who  sat 
Within  the  sacred'st  precinct  of  my  heart. 
Sir  Lionel,  thou  wast  a  faithful  friend; 
And  always  ruledst  high  in  Tristan's  love, 
As  Tristan  ruled  in  mine.     For  this  last  service 
To  thy  dying  friend,  and  mine  the  most  beloved, 
Ask  what  thou  wilt;  thy  utmost  wish 
Can  never  meet  my  willingness  to  thee. 
Thou  hadst  the  loyal  heart  to  dare  my  ire, 
Which  would  have  been  extreme;  now  take  my  love; 
Thou'lt  find  it  equal  to  thy  daring,  sir. 

ISOLDE 

Deliriously. 

The  night  doth  come;  this  was  the  latest  day 
That  ever  thou  wilt  stay  from  me  again. 
Thine  absence  kills  me.     Tristan,  I  am  come. 
The  night  droops  on — thou  liest  in  my  arms 
Yet  warm  with  ebbing  life — 

I  come — 


120  Tristan  &  Isolde  Act  V 

Thine  eyes  shall  light  the  way — 
Thy  song  shall  lead  me  through  the  pathless  dark. 
Oh,  Tristan,  melt  not,  flee  not  from  my  arms; 
I  come — 

Dies. 

KING 

Isolde,  one  last  word  of  full  forgiveness. 

BRANGJ3NA 

Dead — dead — my  sweet,  impetuous  flower — 
The  mild  spring  sun  of  joy  had  wooed  thy  heart, 
Like  some  too  early  blossom  to  unfold: 
Then  woe  came  like  a  dull,  relentless  frost, 
And  blasted  all  its  petals  ere  they  closed. 

KING 

Death,  thou  hast  done  the  deed  I  came  to  do; 

Joined  them  at  last.     I  loved  ye  both  so  much, 

I  could  have  found  a  joy  in  yielding  up 

My  queen  to  one  to  whom  she  had  been  given 

By  higher  hand  than  mine  could  overs  way; 

Your  happiness  would  solace  all  my  loss. 

Two  infinite  joys  to  them  whom  I  most  loved 

Would  cure  my  self-inflicted  pain. 

Oh,  Rual,  go  thou  not  so  quickly  back, 

To|Bretigny  again;  stay  for  a  while; 

My  castle  be  thy  home.     And,  Lionel, 

I'll  lean  on  thee,  as  once  I  leaned  on  Tristan: 

And  so  farewell;  I  go  to  hide  my  grief. 

Enters  castle. 
Curtain. 


Epilogue 


Epilogue 


OH,  let  me  sing  one  song  before  I  lie 
Enfolded  in  my  shroud. 
Oh,  let  me  sing  one  song  before  I  die 

And  mingle  with  the  crowd 
Of  other  mortals,  quaffing  Lethean  sleep; 
And  I  shall  be  contented  then  to  creep 
Noiseless  to  death,  yet  proud. 

Oh,  let  me  sing  one  eager,  throbbing  song 

With  words  the  heart  hath  found; 
I  then,  too,  willingly  will  join  the  throng 

Of  dead  ones  under  ground. 
My  song  will  be  my  soul  and  dwell 
Immortal  in  man's  heart,  and  swell 
His  pulses  with  its  sound. 

Oh,  let  me  sing  one  song  before  all  cold 

I  lay  me  on  my  bier, 
One  simple,  beauteous  song,  before  I  fold 

My  dust  in  cerements  drear: 
Then  willingly  will  I  descend, 
In  peace  with  life,  for  at  my  end 
I  leave  a  deathless  tear. 


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